


In the Darkest Hour

by Tasharene



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Complete, Drama & Romance, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasharene/pseuds/Tasharene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellana always knew that her big mouth would get her in trouble. When it got her a kiss from Solas instead, she thought herself the happiest elf ever... until terrible news arrived and nearly broke her.</p>
<p>Two Lavellans and three romances in one story. Great friendships. Some drama, and some humor, too. Enjoy!</p>
<p>The story was written before Trespasser DLC was released.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frolicking

**Author's Note:**

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A foamy rivulet of ale slipped from Ellana's lips while she emptied her fourth mug in a row. With a small wince, she suppressed a belch, and smashed the wooden tankard against the table.

"Well, boys, this elf has had enough," she declared, a little too loud. "Be good and don't... dees-... dyst-... well, shit."

"Destroy?" Dorian offered helpfully with a rather saucy wink as he lifted his own mug in a toast to her.

"Yes, that," the Inquisitor agreed, abandoning the safety of her chair and finding that her legs were not as obedient as she had wanted them to be. "Don't do... _that_... to the tavern while I'm away."

Bull roared a laugh that shook all the window panes in the taproom. "Now I'm having filthy thoughts about the building, thanks, boss."

"You have filthy thoughts about everything. It's them horns, they make you... horny," she countered and dragged herself outside with a mock salute.

The cold mountain air sobered her a little and Lavellan took a deep breath, inhaling greedily until she felt her lungs could not take any more. Celebrating a victory as small as crushing the last group of Venatori that Dorian had on his kill list seemed excessive, but... morale had been low after the fiasco with the wardens and the frightful trip to the fade, and nothing was better for morale than booze and hangover the next day. That little she did know about shemlen for sure. All the better it seemed true about Qunari, too. And dwarves. And...

A wave of nausea overwhelmed her momentarily, forcing her to lean against the cold wall to prevent herself from collapsing. Inside, the Bull's Chargers began to sing their song, Dorian's pleasant voice joining them in drunken reverie. She smiled.

Ever since her own clan nearly disowned her for daring to show interest in necromancy, Ellana felt like the lesser being. Like the shameful secret best kept locked up and never spoken of. Keeper Dashanna was so eager to get rid of her that she had sent her First-to-be across the whole country to... what? Watch a bunch of shems argue about their gods and magic and whatnot. No one in the clan really cared about that. They were Dalish, they were free, whatever trouble the world had with itself, it did not concern them.

And now she was here, the leader of the Inquisition, nearly untouchable in the ancient stronghold of Skyhold. A figure growing in power, destined, it seemed, to destroy whatever was threatening to end the world as everyone knew it. An elf saving shems, so that they could pointlessly argue more later on.

Snorting, Ellana waved a dismissive hand at the thoughts. For her, the power and titles mattered little, especially compared with the fact that now, a necromancer from Tevinter was her best friend. She wasn't the odd one out anymore, and she found a patient and wise mentor in the man, far better than that aloof Nevarran that Leliana had found to instruct her. More importantly, Dorian had also taught her to take pride in the magic, enjoy it to the fullest, and feel her own worth even when no one else saw it in her.

With a satisfied cackle, Lavellan pushed herself away from the wall and, careful not to stumble over her own, defiantly booted feet, made her way towards her quarters. She did stumble once or twice on the stairs, anyway, and ended up half crawling up the last flight into the keep. One of the guards offered help, but quickly retreated with an amused chuckle at her half-hearted threat to send him away fleeing in magic-induced panic while screaming like a pinched wench. And that was a mouthful to say while pretending to be offended... and not quite drunk.

Once inside, Ellana decided to count the doors, so she would push open the right one... but instead she staggered and crashed into the very first one she had been passing by. Blinking, the elf took a few steps back, stumbled again, slammed her knee against the wall and, at long last, ended up plopping onto the ground, with her back supported by a soft couch, while Solas leveled her with a highly disapproving glare.

"Sorry, dad," she teased, barely stifling a giggle at the indignant huff coming from the other elf. "I just had a good time, I had no idea it was a crime."

"It is when you disgrace yourself so," he replied after a moment of silence, turning to contemplate the fresco adorning a portion of the circular wall surrounding them. From the ever so slight change in his posture, though, Lavellan knew he had smiled with that patient, if a bit frustrated at times, smile he had always had ready for her. That tiny little bit of amusement, just tugging at the corner of his lips was always a sight she welcomed and cherished for some unknown and, frankly speaking, rather infuriating reason.

Clearing her throat, she climbed up onto the couch and sat there cross-legged, staring at the painting in front of her. "You finished the Adamant piece," she offered quietly, not bothering to hide the admiration in her slightly slurred voice.

"That I did. I am glad you took the care to notice." Solas did not turn to face her and it was Ellana's turn to huff in disappointment.

"I always notice everything about you," she grumbled, her eyes going wide the moment she realized what she had just said. Worse, the bald bastard had the nerve to actually chuckle at that. The sound echoed in the rotunda, filling her with tingly warmth, and making her collapse face-first onto the soft pillows to hide embarrassment. It only took a moment for sleep to claim her there.

***

Strong smell of herbs woke her up. When she opened one eye, there was a steaming cup hovering right in front of her face. With consciousness came a headache of epic proportions and it took a lot of self control for the Inquisitor to sit up. She found herself still on Solas' couch, wrapped in a warm blanket, her boots taken off and waiting for her by the wall. The elf was standing nearby, patiently holding a saucer with the cup within her reach.

Ellana accepted it gratefully and took a sip. "By the dread wolf, it tastes horrible," she murmured into the cup, but kept drinking until the herbal mixture started working and brought a significant relief to her battered senses. "Thank you," she said at last, looking up at Solas and wondering why he was smiling this time. "Did I say something utterly silly again? I may have been completely smashed, but I do remember making a fool of myself last night."

He tilted his head, that mysterious half-grin still gracing his handsome features. "I do not recall anything of the sort," he ensured in a deadpan voice. An obvious lie, and one he was completely unashamed of, watching her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"You are insufferable and I adore you for that," Lavellan giggled, then slapped a palm over her mouth. "I'll see myself out."

Putting away the cup and forgetting the boots, she fled the room, not realizing that her bare feet slapping against the stone had carried her straight to Dorian's favorite corner in the library. Her fellow necromancer wasn't there, however, so she curled up in his armchair, burying her burning face in the leather of the same shade of red as her tan skin at the moment.

When the noon passed and the Tevinter mage hadn't showed up, Ellana felt a twinge of worry. Dorian was still raw and brittle from the fiasco that the meeting with his father had been, still seeking refuge and respite in the bottomless reserves of the piss-poor ale that the tavern had to offer. More than once since that fateful day she had caught him wandering the battlements, staggering, and more than enough drunk to hurt himself in an accident... She would escort him to his room, then, make sure he spent the night in bed with a glass of water on the nightstand. And she would disappear before sunset, before he sobered and had a chance to realize she was there at all.

Muttering a curse, Lavellan bolted once again and, pushing away a messenger with urgent summons for the war council, rushed outside. Bright sunlight made her wince, but she ignored it, half-running towards the tavern and cursing in all the languages she knew when she stepped into the puddle of icy-cold water right smack in the middle of the courtyard.

Krem greeted her with a crooked smile and a perfectly clear look of his intense eyes. Hangovers and worries apparently did not dare to bother the formidable young man. "You look horrible, your worship."

"You're bright as sunshine for the both of us," she teased back, looking around the few patrons and not finding the mage among them. "Have you seen Dorian today?"

"Err..." The warrior coughed meaningfully, nodding towards the chair usually occupied by the Iron Bull. It was empty. "I don't think we'll be seeing any of them any time soon," he offered.

"What? Why?"

Another cough, a bit uncomfortable this time. "Well, the chief just slung him over his shoulder some time after midnight and off they went, pardon the pun... rumor has it that no one in the direct vicinity of the chief's room had gotten any sleep last night."

Ellana blinked and allowed herself to drop onto the nearest chair. "Now that's some news to start the day with a bang."

"Literally," Krem added with a chuckle, handing her the bottle he'd been nursing.

"You said it," the elf murmured and took a swig, letting the cheap wine burn her tongue for a while before she swallowed. "So it seems it's just Solas and me doing all the world saving today, then."

The Tevinter laughed out loud. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

She grinned up at him with a wink. "Oh, no it isn't. Not at all. Although how I am going to face him after all I've blundered in the past few hours... I have no idea."

***

As it turned out, it wasn't difficult at all, not after Solas had greeted her with his trademark crooked smile and another cup of his herbal mixture... and an amused suggestion that she really should have cleaned her feet before putting the boots back on at last.

After a somewhat uncomfortably silent ride, they had left the horses at Redcliffe's stables, and wandered off into the wilderness on foot, Lavellan trudging a bit desperately ahead, Solas following with that smug calmness of his, his gaze fixed on her and intense enough that she could feel it on her back. The plan was to locate and activate one of the elven artifacts Solas suspected were in the area, but it did not take long for Ellana to realize that his directions were vague enough to have them wander around for the better part of the day in search of it. She had also realized that she did not mind all that much, even despite the gradually returning headache and her still shaky hands.

The sun was low over the mountains when they had finally called it a day and headed for the nearest camp. Grateful for the simple but filling food the scouts had to offer, the two elves sat by the fire, silence once again drowning the idle chat about the fade, spirits and long lost memories they had been entertaining themselves with all day.

"Just how disappointed are you with me, really?" Ellana asked when her bowl was empty and she found no excuse to keep quiet any longer.

Solas raised an eyebrow, tilting his head a little as he regarded her with a keen eye. "Care to elaborate on that?"

"For one, I'm Dalish, you hate the Dalish. Although I have been pretty much kicked out by our keeper, so maybe that's some redeeming quality." Sighing, she stared into the fire. "I wear boots. That's a capital offense, I bet. I get drunk sometimes. I don't really believe I am better than shems just because I have all this mind-blowingly amazing heritage that has been lost... I mean... I'm curious, I want to learn about it, I want to know, understand, feel a part of it, I really do, but... I will never be able to, how could I, if even our Keeper knows nothing compared to what you know. And you won't be around forever to keep teaching me about everything you've seen, which is a crying shame, by the way, and... well, I think I've just chased myself into a corner with this."

"Ah, yes. That." Steepling his long fingers, Solas closed his eyes for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was calm and soft, yet almost painfully intense, like a breath from the fade itself, Ellana thought. "Let me put it this way: you remind me of myself from my youth. You have a wicked tongue that gets you in all kinds of trouble. You stumble sometimes, once gracefully like a child learning to walk, once clumsily like a drunkard in an alley. We all do, however, and it's not the fall that matters, it's how we get up and move on after, richer with the experience. You have grown a lot since the first day I saw you, Inquisitor. You've changed, matured, but you would never admit that to yourself, not even after you took the heavy burden of leadership onto your shoulders without so much as a blink, because you knew that was the right thing to do. You lead with purpose, not towards your personal gain or glory, but towards the greater good. To show the world that an elf is capable of being more than a meaningless beggar living in a slum."

The silence seemed profound when Solas stopped talking. Even the merry crackling of the fire carried some hidden meaning when he finally opened his eyes to look at Lavellan. The glow from the flame flashed in his pupils, for the briefest moment giving them a feral glow. He smiled at her. "So to answer your question: no, I am not disappointed with you at all. Quite the contrary, in fact. I'm rather proud of all you have accomplished so far."

Ellana simply stared at him, eyes wide open, lips slightly parted, as she made a tiny move towards him then stopped herself. "Oh, I could kiss you for that," she whispered at last, not quite realizing she had actually spoken the words.

"You could indeed," Solas whispered back, chuckling as he gathered himself from the ground and headed for one of the tents. "Good night to you, Inquisitor."

It was too late to feel embarrassed over her hasty words, so she just groaned, and sprawled on the grass, turning her gaze to the stars. The sound of Solas' laugh kept ringing pleasantly in her ears.

***

She found him in Skyhold first thing the next morning, intending to ask more, learn more, fill those big shoes he had ready for her, as horrible as that metaphor had been, all things considered. Instead of patiently letting her question him as usual, however, Solas suggested they went for a walk. It was then that Ellana felt something was not quite right, but she followed him anyway, like she would whenever he wanted her to, anywhere, anytime.

When they entered Haven, buildings intact, the rift still ominous in the distance, he began talking, fast, about her, about his struggle to save her, keep her alive, to help. The unusual urgency in his voice made her feel uneasy and yet... she did not feel the need to understand or demand explanations, not when he looked at her and allowed her to see that he himself felt a little anxious. And certainly not when he confessed that she had changed... everything.

It was an impulse. An act without a shred of thought behind it, but still Ellana reached out to cup his cool cheek in her palm, turned him to face her again, and tiptoed to press a kiss on his lips. It was small and shy, fretful and quick, and she had certainly expected a rebuke for it. Offense. Disgust. Even him pushing her away. Instead, Solas took a deep breath, as if steeling himself before taking a dive into an abyss and... he kissed her back. Urgently. Once, twice, three times, each time forcing himself to part from her, only to look at her in utter disbelief before returning for more, with more passion, more need behind it.

Lavellan allowed herself a tiny moan that sounded treacherously like his name, and Solas chose that very moment to speak. "We shouldn't. Not even here." This was when the realization finally hit her, and everything made sense at last. They were in the fade.

Ellana woke up instantly, sitting up and feeling the morning chill creep into her bones from the dewy grass by the half-cold embers of the campfire. Ignoring her chattering teeth, she marched straight to Solas' tent, barged in without notice, dropped onto the bedroll next to him and unceremoniously pushed her cold feet under his blanket.

The elf chuckled, of course he did. "Sleep well?"

She nudged him lightly. "I've never done anything like that. On a number of levels," she admitted honestly, hoping there was a chance for another kiss. Preferably soon.

That made him laugh and Lavellan loved the sound of it. In fact, she was rather smitten, and admitting that to herself brought even more warmth than the tentative touch of his callused foot under the blanket did. His next words, however, made her smile fall as he apologized and claimed it was all a bad idea, that he shouldn't have encouraged her, blah blah blah. Ellana bristled and glared defiantly.

"You kissed me back, you know... it was the most amazing thing I have ever experienced in my life, fade or no fade, and..." Sighing, she moved slightly away from the other elf, suddenly self-conscious and cold all over again. "But if you don't want to go on with this, I... will understand, of course."

It took Solas a long while to answer, and Ellana kept wringing the corner of the blanket while waiting for him to speak.

"I'm not certain it's the wisest thing to do," he offered at last, tentative as he chose the words with great care. "It's been a long while for me and it could lead to trouble, but... if you're willing to give me a little time..."

She beamed up at him. "All the time you need. And all the trouble you can get me into. I'm willing."

With that she crawled out of the tent and, ignoring the curious looks from the scouts, raced down the small hill to the meadow nearby and danced there until she an out of breath... yes, she was frolicking, shems were staring, and she did not care, because he didn't say 'no'.

That was all that mattered.

***

After breakfast, when the soldiers departed for their usual patrol, leaving the elves alone in the camp, Ellana busied herself packing some basic supplies and getting ready for another day of searching for the lost artifact.

"You never really answered me," Solas began conversationally, "do you believe that you are the herald of Andraste, sent by the Maker to save the world?"

She snorted. "Of course I don't, we have our own gods, and while I may know nothing about them compared to what you know... well, let's just say our stories are much better. They... ring more true than shemlen ones, I think? It is hard to explain."

"That makes more sense than you can possibly imagine, da'len." With a smile, he handed her a neatly folded blanket and watched for a while as she struggled to fit it in the already filled pack. "Indulge me once more, if you will, which of the gods would you choose for your patron?"

"Fen'Harel... and don't you dare be indignant about it as all elves are when I tell them." Lavellan shot him a fierce look. "At first it was just to annoy the Keeper, after she said I got my dark knowledge from the Dread Wolf... but I was curious about him, I started seeking information, in every city we passed by I would search any and all texts that people write about us, and the more I read about him, the more I felt him to be my kindred spirit, so to speak. Did you know, there is a treaty written by some shem from Orlais that calls Fen'Harel the rebel god, not the betrayer? He seemed to have good evidence to support that claim, too. And just look at me - I was kicked out from my clan, because I refused to obey and stop being myself. You could say I rebelled. So of course Fen'Harel is my patron."

"Of course." Solas said nothing more, but the grin that had stretched his lips was a little more than just mischievous.

***

They had finally located the relic far to the south-east, hidden away in a small chamber carved in the rocky slope of a mountain. With the unexpected, though not unwelcome, aid of another elf mage who happened to be looking for it as well, they dispatched the demons that had taken over the place, and activated the strange device. It hummed and crackled, the sound unpleasant, but soothing, in a peculiar way.

"The anchor doesn't hurt at all when I keep it near this," Ellana mused, hovering her left palm over the green glowing sphere of energy. "It is... nice. I almost forgot what it's like to not feel that pain."

When she turned to head for the exit, Solas was watching her with a mixture of worry and disbelief. "And all this time you did not care to share with anyone that it causes you discomfort?"

Lavellan shrugged. "Cassandra asked me once, but I did not tell her the truth. It's not like anyone can do anything about it, right? So why dwell on it, really. It's not excruciating pain, it barely even registers now. Although not feeling it is... good."

"You are... impossible!" Solas threw his arms in the air and stormed outside without looking back. She chased after him, grabbed his arm and forced him to stop and face her. The worried look in his eyes made her heart skip an anxious beat.

"Hey... talk to me. What's wrong?"

The other elf sighed and took her hand in both of his, caressing the inside of her marked palm with his fingertips. "I do not want you to feel any pain, it should not be that way, I never... I will find a way to ease it, I promise."

Ellana shook her head with a fond smile and tiptoed to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. "You worry too much, Solas. I'm quite all right. Now... can I have a smile, please?"

Reluctantly, he granted her the wish and, despite the heavy clouds and rain threatening to fall at any moment, it felt as if the sky had parted and let the sunshine warm her to the very core.

She was indeed smitten. There was no other word for that.

***


	2. Loss

"I'm quite put out with you, you know," Dorian greeted her as soon as she climbed the stairs to the library. "There you go, off to traipse the countryside in the questionable company of the bald and grumpy, leaving all the fun that is me behind. Unheard of, really."

Ellana giggled and punched his arm. "I humbly beg your forgiveness and hereby solemnly swear that it shall never ever happen again... unless I am put out with you, which just so happens to be the case right about now."

The man gasped, putting a wrist to his forehead in a dramatic display of wonderfully fake concern. "Whatever transgression have I committed to earn your ire this time, oh mighty Inquisitor?"

Sighing, she gestured for the padded armchair and waited for him to sit before making herself comfortable on a pile of books next to it. "I heard about you and Bull."

"Oh, I'm absolutely certain everyone in Skyhold heard us that night," he told her with a grin that did not quite reach his eyes.

"Dorian... please, don't jest for once. Are you going to continue this? You have never really expressed any interest in him, quite the contrary, I dare say? He kept hounding you, sure, but it still... seems sudden. I'm worried."

He chuckled, ruffling her hair playfully. "You really are mighty serious about it, that's almost flattering!"

"I care about you, you oaf," she countered, reaching up to unsuccessfully try and twist his moustache to point downwards.

Dorian sighed, and took her slender wrist between his index and middle fingers to gently pry her hand away from his face. "I can not guess what will become of it at this point, _amica_. I did not expect it to happen, I can't even say I was looking forward to it ever happening. But you know how it is. Cheap ale, raunchy stories, and before I knew it, happen it did."

Lavellan nodded. "Guess I'll just have to keep a closer eye on you two from now on."

"You do that," the mage purred at her and, raising his voice considerably, added, "I am willing to bet some serious gold that my excellent company - and Bull's, naturally - will be a great addition to the miserable presence of the egghead by your side."

"I heard that!" Came Solas' voice from the floor below.

"I know that!" Replied Dorian with a hearty laugh. "I do so love teasing him. He loves that, too, but he'd rather die than admit something in the real world is capable of entertaining him."

Lavellan snorted. Making sure that her voice was loud enough to reach the other elf, she said: "I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about. Whenever I happen to be in his company, Solas more than lives up to the nickname Varric has given him."

As if to confirm her words, the sound of a warm chuckle echoed from the walls. Ellana grinned, waggling her eyebrows at the Tevinter mage next to her. Dorian gasped, his eyes going wide as understanding dawned on him.

_No way!_ He mouthed at her silently, to which Lavellan replied with a somewhat bashful smile.

"I can only hope for the future," she whispered with a tiny shrug. "But if the kisses are anything to go by, he won't be able to resist."

"Good on you," her fellow necromancer declared. "And if he hurts you... you know what I'll do to him, right?"

"Make him run in circles, screaming like a girl... while a flock of nightmare hens tries to sit on his shiny bald head, hoping for a fade chicken to emerge?"

"You have the best ideas, _amica_." Dorian beamed proudly. "Goodness, the student has outdone the teacher, I think I shall shed a tear."

***

Cullen was practically fuming, pacing between Leliana and Josephine by the war table, his armor clanking. "You are the Inquisitor, you are constantly at risk of assassination, or kidnapping, or worse! You should never, under any circumstances, leave Skyhold without at least three people to protect you."

Ellana snorted at that, folding arms on her chest. "I appreciate your concern, but two competent mages are more than enough to take care of just about anything save a dragon or Corypheus himself. And the likelihood of encountering either in the Hinterlands is exactly none these days. We killed the local dragon ages ago, if you recall." She chuckled privately. "Bull still gets horny at the thought of it, by the way. Come to think of it, we may need to go find a new one to kill, so he can refresh the images in his head for--"

With a groan, the former templar turned a pleading glance to the spymaster. "And she jests. It's all a game to her! You try to reason with her, because I certainly am not able to."

"Relax, commander." The Nightingale did not bother to hide an impish smile. "I'll just have some of my people follow our troublesome Inquisitor in case she tries to sneak out like that ever again. Problem solved. As for dragons..." She looked at the elf and offered her a knowing wink. "I have reports of one nesting in the Storm Coast, in case you want to head that way again sometime."

"Please, do not encourage her!" Josephine protested vehemently. "As popular as the songs of her dragonslaying exploits are, it's a terrible risk she should not be taking!"

"There is no risk if Cassandra is with us. None whatsoever. The Seeker could kill all them dragons single-handedly, I bet." Lavellan grinned and rolled her shoulders. "Besides, each dragon carcass earns us a lot of followers, a lot of priceless raw materials, a lot of fun, and countless sexual innuendos from Bull. Worth it, I say. Storm Coast it is. We were about to deal with those bandits there anyway, no?"

Before any of the advisors had a chance to reply, a crow flew in through an open window and perched on Leliana's shoulder. The spymaster opened the message it had brought and read the few lines of neatly packed text. "Oh, Maker."

Something in the tone of her voice, in the way the woman looked up at her from the small parchment, brought a stab of fear right through Ellana's chest. "What's wrong?"

"Your clan... they've been attacked on the road, probably by the Inquisition's enemies. The report says there are no survivors, but I shall investigate, immediately."

The pained cry that tore itself from Lavellan's constricted throat echoed in the room long after she had collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

***

When Ellana awoke, in her own bed, the sun was setting already. For the briefest moment, she lay there, staring at the ceiling and wondering what that heavy weight crushing her chest and making breathing difficult was. When the mind had supplied the suppressed memory at last, she crawled from under the covers, determined to act, do something, anything... instead, she swayed and dropped back onto the mattress, a silent sob tearing her apart from the inside.

They were gone, all of them, and she, a reject, the sole survivor... their bodies left to rot on the side of the road somewhere, bloodied, maimed, lifeless, eyes staring, but never blinking, lips parted, forever crying for help, for--

She curled around herself as if struck with a powerful blow.

Mahanon. Little brother. Younger by mere minutes only, and yet always more fragile, more sensitive than she could ever be. And a better elf in every respect. She had denied him when, against the Keeper's wish, he offered to accompany her in the exile. She wanted him to have a future with the clan as the master hunter, his skill with the bow unmatched, his love for the tradition honest and pure. She wanted only the best for him... and she had ultimately killed him with it.

Ellana carefully stood again. She needed a strong drink. She needed to cry her eyes out and wallow in self-pity. And then she would act. She would be the punishing hand of the Maker. She would be the herald of Andraste's vengeance. She would drown the whole world in demons if need be to find the ones responsible. She would crush them, tear them apart, slowly, piece by piece, while they wailed in agony for days, for weeks, for-- and then she would bring their bodies back up and command them to kill more. There would be no mercy. For anyone.

Despite all her resolve, one shuddering breath was enough to shatter the dam at last. Tears welled in her eyes, trailing down her cheeks and dripping to the carpeted floor. The elf swayed again, but held herself steady this time, her face a mask of silent rage.

Once the world stopped spinning in front of her, Ellana turned towards the stairs and only then did she notice Solas, sprawled on the sofa by the railing, fast asleep. Reluctant to wake the fade walker, and unsure if she was ready to talk to anyone without breaking into pieces, she padded over to him and sat on the floor to simply watch him in silence. The sight of his slightly parted lips, of his face focused and, at the same time relaxed, was so soothing that the gratitude for his presence there had nearly overwhelmed her.

Soon, she found herself scooting even closer, so that she could rest her head in the small space on the cushions not occupied by his sleeping body, her face only a breath away from his hand. With a small, broken sigh, Ellana wished she could join him in the fade and just cry on his shoulder until the world ended taking away all the pain and guilt. Sleep refused to come, however. Instead, she felt the other elf stir, and a cool palm cupped her tear-damp cheek in a tender caress.

"I tried to find any traces of the attackers in the fade, but we're too far away... I am so sorry," he whispered, sitting up and sliding off the couch to join her on the floor. He did not protest when she cuddled up to him, trembling and clutching at his arm, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood to prevent herself from crying. Solas shook his head at that. "Let it all out, _da'len_ , share it with me, I will help you carry this burden."

And she did, in a cascade of sobs and frantic accusations that she was not the Lavellan worthy of survival... Solas listened, patiently, until her eyes were dry and her body unable to weep anymore, until she let him pick her up and carry her back to bed, where he tucked her in as if she was a child. When she drifted away at last, he made himself comfortable on top of the covers by her side and closed his eyes.

In the fade, her suffering guided him like a beacon to her, a frightened girl, lost and alone in the middle of a parched desert of memories warped by her grief. He remained hidden, standing guard, making sure that her pain and anger would not attract unwanted attention from preying demons.

***

Nearly riding the horses to death, they had arrived at the place of the massacre mere days later. In the meantime, Cullen's soldiers had managed to take care of the dead in the most respectful way the circumstances had allowed. It was ultimately the Inquisitor's decision what would be done with them after.

The large tent where the corpses had been gathered to rest on magically frozen ground, loomed on the side of the road. Ellana felt small and insignificant, standing by the entrance, breathing in quick, frantic gasps, unable to make that one final step that would confront her with reality. She knew she had to say her goodbyes to each and every single of them or she would never be able to find peace, but...

Her chin began to quiver and she was grateful that everyone around had kept busy at a distance, giving her the privacy she needed. Solas entered the fade the moment they had arrived, determined to help in the best way he could, even if it meant witnessing the whole massacre there. Bull rushed off to the nearest settlement to ask around and put his Ben-hassrath training to use, absolutely certain he would be able to find something Leliana's spies had missed.

Ellana knew that they weren't doing this for the Inquisition, nor for any possible personal gain. They were doing it for her, and she had to be strong to show them she was worth it. Steeling herself, the Inquisitor reached out for the tent's flap, but immediately let her hand drop back to her side. "I can't do this alone..."

A strong arm supported her when she swayed, lending the trembling elf the power she could not muster on her own. "You don't have to, _amica_."

Together, they entered the tent, their breaths turning to puffs of steam in the icy-cold air inside. Dorian gently guided her towards the center and stood behind her, his warmth a silent reminder that he was right there should she need him.

"I will never be whole again," the last of the Lavellan whispered, her voice breaking as she let her eyes wander. Memories of the voices and laughter she would never hear flooded her mind in a crushing wave. She did not have any more tears left, but it did not stop the wracking sobs from coming and reducing her to a quivering mess when she dropped to her knees by the Keeper's body.

Eventually, Ellana managed to move, from one corpse to the other, saying the last goodbyes, and placing a parting kiss on each of the frosted foreheads. When she had gathered herself from the ground at last, her face was as lifeless as the ones of the slaughtered, but Dorian noticed a faint glimmer of hope when she allowed herself to collapse straight into his waiting arms.

"He's not here," came her frantic whisper. "He may yet live."

***

"How could we allow for that to happen at all?"

Josephine ignored Cullen's question and kept scribbling furiously in her ledger, feeling guilty enough without his rubbing it in.

Leliana frowned and turned from the window. "The moment she agreed to help us close the Breach, Ellana chose to remain separate from her clan. Of course, she claimed to be an exile determined to leave her past behind, and it may well have been partly true, although I believe, she did this just as much to protect them from us. Ultimately, it is my fault for not investigating deeper into her connection to them."

"No, I will not let you take all the blame on yourself." The ambassador pointed the quill at her friend. "We all agreed we should respect her wish to remain detached. We all believed it would be better for both herself and for the clan. It seemed like the right thing to do after they did not seek to contact her even once, didn't it?"

Sighing, Cullen rubbed his neck, hoping for the painful stiffness of the muscles there to be gone soon. "We should have offered them protection, regardless. Or force it, if necessary."

Dorian chose that moment let himself inside the war room, leaving the door wide open to lead a very pale Ellana in. "Tell them, _amica_ ," he urged her softly, making her lean on him for support. "She insisted on telling you herself, and you know how stubborn she can be... otherwise I would have put her in bed the moment we had arrived."

"Mahanon Lavellan. My twin brother. He is still alive." The elf dug her fingers deep into the leather vambrace of Dorian's armor. "We have to... he can not... I will not survive mourning him again..."

Seeing that she had no strength to go on, the Tevinter led Ellana to one of the benches by the wall and sat with her, never breaking the contact between them. "Bull and I managed to find a witness in the village, a young boy who saw a group of armed men drag an elven prisoner through the local forest. We... made sure that what he said was true and not just a child's fantasy. In the fade, Solas used Ellana's connection to her brother to look for him. He is certain the lad is indeed alive, but he could only narrow down his possible location to a fairly large area to the north, about a day's ride from Skyhold. We need Inquisition's forces to pinpoint him." He paused and shot the advisors a meaningful glare. "Just find him. We will take it from there."

Exchanging a quick nod with Cullen, Leliana had a plan ready even before the mage finished speaking. "Right away. In the meantime, make sure the Inquisitor gets all the rest she will need for the rescue mission."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amica = latin for female friend


	3. The Rescue

The half-ruined watch tower was quite inconspicuous, tucked between a bubbling creek and a rather steep drop of the mountain side. There was only one guard at the top, easily and without the slightest noise neutralized with scout Harding's deadly arrow. Leaving the Bull's Chargers to keep watch outside, the strike team entered the building, finding little inside apart from ruined furniture and a spiral staircase leading down, to what seemed to be an extensive dungeon crudely carved in solid rock.

Bull entered the narrow corridor first, Ellana followed close behind, agreeing to let him lead only after a long and drawn out discussion they had the previous day, back in Skyhold's tavern. Bull ended up with a mug smashed against one of his horns, but he won the argument by sheer cold logic the Inquisitor could not argue against.

A clank of armor alerted them to the presence of a guard around the corner. Not wanting to risk raising the alarm, Bull let Solas through and grinned when the elf silently encased the enemy in solid ice. Passing by him, the Qunari smashed his fist against the cold surface, effectively crushing the man inside into countless pieces that spilled to the floor with the sound of broken glass.

"Smooth, real smooth." Dorian groaned, turning to make sure the noise had not drawn any attention from the passage they had just left. "We were supposed to be quiet, remember?"

"We and quiet don't mix," Bull replied, caressing the handle of his great axe in an absolutely obscene way. "I think that's known to just about everyone by now."

Ellana swore under her breath and shot them both a disappointed look. "Really guys? Now's the time for this conversation?" Angrily shoving the Bull aside, or at least trying to, she rushed forward, the purple glow of readied horror spell illuminating the way for her.

Despite the careless behavior, they were fortunate, for it seemed that whoever kept the younger Lavellan captive, had not expected to be found any time soon, if at all. The long corridors were mostly empty, with only a single guard dozing off at each of the ends. They dispatched them one by one, leaving only mutilated corpses behind and, eventually, they stopped bothering to keep their presence a secret. At a certain point, a proper fight would actually be welcome to help them reduce the accumulated tension.

Ellana checked every single door they passed by, letting Bull smash them open if the locks were engaged, but save for a rotten corpse in one, and a nest of rats in the other, they were all empty. Three levels below the ground the corridor ended with a solid wall instead of the expected staircase, and it seemed their mission would be a failure.

Staring blankly at the wall in front of her, the Inquisitor clutched her staff, resting heavily on it and trying not to panic. "He has to be somewhere here! Leliana's spies are never wrong... never."

"It's a damned secret passage," the Iron Bull announced after examining the wall closely. "No idea how it's operated, there's probably a trigger somewhere, but this wall is designed to move sideways. Look at the texture of it. It's made to resemble a faded decorative pattern, but it only masks the scratch marks when the whole structure slides away."

Relieved, Ellana urged them to scatter around in search for anything that would let them unblock the way. Dorian, however, remained in place, his eyes narrowed as he struggled to remember something. "Yes, of course!" He exclaimed at last, making them all rush back to him and stare expectantly. "We had such vaults in Tevinter, ages ago. Primitive contraptions, to be sure, but yes, magic is the key. Obviously. And not just any magic, each mechanism was tuned to the user, so unless we can find traces of the last spell cast here, we are doomed to trial and error, I'm afraid."

"Not really," Bull interrupted him. "Fire spells would leave scorch marks, even on stone. Same with lightning. So that rules you and Boss out. Ice however... that would only leave water behind, and even water would evaporate eventually. No marks. And the wall IS spotless."

Solas stepped forward, tilting his head a little. "I believe you are correct." With that, he lifted his staff in an elegant twirl and slammed the tip against the ground, sending two bolts of ice right at the center of the obstacle. For a moment nothing happened, but once the icy splatters began to melt, a complicated pattern flashed under them, illuminated by intensely blue glow. It faded almost instantly, followed by muffled clatter of a metal chain uncoiling somewhere. The stone groaned and moved to the side, just as Bull had predicted, revealing a spacious chamber behind, and a small figure crumpled on the floor in the corner.

"Mahanon!"

Letting her staff drop to the ground, Ellana ran inside, kneeling by her brother's side and gently, ever so gently, turning his limp body to make sure he was alive. His fingertips were bloodied, nails scraped nearly to the bone, but for the time being, she refused to think how he must have clawed at the walls, seeking a way out. Her brother seemed unharmed otherwise, but remained unconscious despite her attempts to wake him.

"He's famished," she said, looking up at her companions, her eyes wild. "It's as if they had tossed him here and forgot about him. A day longer and we would be too late to save him, he would--"

She didn't have a chance to finish as a similar passage had opened at the other end of the corridor, allowing at least a dozen of heavily armed soldiers emerge, their weapons at the ready.

"Well, shit." Bull immediately put himself between them and the rest of the team, but unless they moved fast, they had no chance to reach the only exit before the attackers blocked their way.

"I'll carry him," Dorian offered, picking Ellana's staff and handing it to her. "We need Bull to protect us, and we won't go far without Solas' spirit magic, either." He eyed the unmoving body and nodded. "He looks even more fragile than you do, _amica_ , so I'm sure I can manage a relatively fast run, too."

"His life into your hands," the Inquisitor whispered stepping away from her sibling at last. "I trust you."

Once he scooped the unconscious elf from the ground, Mahanon whimpered and instinctively clung to the warmth, burying his face on Dorian's chest. "Well, if he wasn't out cold I would be so very flattered," the Tevinter murmured with a shameless grin, then coughed, when Ellana scolded him with a glare. "I mean, that makes carrying him much easier."

"Get ready, sweet talker, and don't look back," the Bull warned and charged, crashing into enemies with a furious roar, immediately taking three of them down with the sheer force of impact. Solas and Ellana followed that with carefully aimed spells, and soon Dorian could rush towards the staircase, his path unobstructed.

When he ran out to the tower's decrepit courtyard, Krem and the rest of the Chargers immediately came out of their hiding, alarmed when the others had not returned. Breathless, the mage urged them to go inside and provide help, and only then, at long last, did he allow himself to slump wearily to the ground, never letting go of the younger Lavellan in his arms.

The fresh, cool air proved to be enough to bring the elf back, making him stir and open his eyes, irises intensely blue, just like his sister's. "Well aren't you a sight to behold," Dorian murmured, offering him a soothing smile.

Lost and confused, Mahanon tensed, but did not struggle, aware that it would be a lost fight for him. Instead, he said something in elvish, words quick, trembling and marked with fear, followed by a pleading look that nearly broke the Tevinter's heart.

"No one is ever going to hurt you again, Mahanon," he told the elf softly, hoping he would understand. "Your sister, Ellana, is here, and I assure you that you have never been safer in your life."

"Ellana? _Ma melava halani? Ma serannas. Ma serannas..._ "

Dorian could only smile again in reply, pulling the weeping elf closer. The long fingers clutched at his outer robe, staining the silvery silk with flecks of dried blood before the lithe body relaxed against him at last.

Looking up, the mage watched the tower's gateway like a hawk. Minutes seemed to drag like hours with no sign of life from the inside. Just as he was about to hide the now sleeping elf somewhere and return to the dungeon, his companions finally arrived, bloodied, bruised, but very much alive.

***

"The wall slides. Dark, cold. So very cold. Memories come. They hurt. Death, screams, pain too great to bear. Too many of them, too strong, the clan will die. No escape, no way to win. The Keeper falls. I have no more arrows. They come for me. It is over. Sister, I'm glad you left. The wall won't move. I scream. I cry. I plead. Fingers hurt. Too soft to move the stone. Dark. So dark. No water. Everything burns. Breathing hurts. Air is almost gone. Sister. Don't come for me. They will hurt you. Be safe. I'm sorry."

Ellana looked up at Cole, wiping tears off her cheeks with a sleeve. "Why would he apologize?"

The spirit tilted his head, his eyes never leaving the elf curled up under several blankets in the Inquisitor's bed, still asleep. "They took me to hurt her. I can not let them. I can not live through this. I will be worthless to them dead. Then they can't make her come for me. I can not live."

"Foolish little brother!" She jumped to her feet and began pacing the room, unable to even consider the possibility of such an outcome.

"He loves you very much. More than he loves his life," Cole supplied helpfully.

"As I love him." Ellana embraced the spirit, a little shocked at how cold his tall body was. "Thank you, Cole, you helped both of us a great deal today."

"I helped? That's... good!" He offered her a brilliant smile and vanished out of sight.

She smiled back at the empty space where he used to be, before returning to the bed to sit on the edge. Mahanon stirred in his sleep, but if Solas' herbal mixture was as good as the fade walker had claimed, no dreams would torment the young elf and he would be asleep until the next day at least.

Ellana stretched a little, weariness finally catching up with her. Despite weakness and sand in her eyes, she refused to lie down herself, however. Miraculously, no demons or nightmares had preyed on her whenever she did sleep, a true mystery considering how vulnerable and pain-twisted her mind had been, but she'd rather not push her luck.

With one last look at her sibling, she left her quarters and headed for the library.

As expected, Solas was engrossed in a book, turning pages faster than any normal person would be able to read, but that did not surprise her. Solas was anything but an ordinary elf. Quietly, the Lavellan perched on the sofa and remained silent, wondering what he'd do. A tiny smile that tugged at the corner of the other elf's lips indicated that he did notice her, but agreed to play along.

Ellana bit her lip to hide a smile of her own and looked up, only to see Dorian peeking down at them from the gallery. He put a finger to his lips and disappeared, returning moments later with a handful of crow feathers in hand. It must have taken him a long while to gather them around the rookery.

With an impish grin, the Tevinter outstretched his arm, aimed carefully and, opening his fingers, blew at the feathers, sending them all cascading down... Some landed on Solas' desk, some in his lap, some fluffy down perched on his shoulders, but one, glorious tail feather landed directly on top of his head, swaying precariously for a moment before it stopped, majestic and pitch black in the candlelight.

The Inquisitor grabbed one of the pillows from the sofa, buried her face in it and let out the wild giggle that had bubbled inside her chest. Her fellow necromancer, however, wasn't that subtle. The sound of his loud, brazen laughter rang pleasantly in the air... until a tiny bolt of ice hit him square in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards, straight onto his favorite armchair.

"Children, both of you," Solas declared, shaking the feathers off and picking up his book again. He got back to reading as if nothing happened, but his eyes were smiling when he took a quick peek at Ellana. "It is good to see you laugh, _da'len_."

Dropping the pillow, the Inquisitor approached to plant a soft kiss on his head, right where the feather used to be. "It is good to not be alone in my time of need," she whispered to his pointed ear. "I will let you study."

Dorian was still chuckling when she climbed the stairs to join him in the library. "Do I have a good aim, or do I have the perfect aim?" He demanded of her, shaking the last splinters of ice from his leather outfit. "I do so wish I could have seen his face!"

"Well... stoic is the word to describe it," she offered, struggling to keep her composure.

"Ah, part of his charm, I'm sure." Dorian sat up and tilted his head. "At the risk of getting a bolt of lightning to my chest this time, you look terrible, _amica_. You should be resting. Your lovely little brother is going to need you when he gets better. I suppose everything will be new and strange for him here, if his reaction to my extraordinary person is anything to go by."

Sighing, Ellana made herself comfortable on the window sill, shucking the boots and supporting her feet against the armrest of Dorian's chair. "The clan mostly kept to themselves. They didn't have much contact with humans or other races, I was the only one to ever enter cities or villages. And, considering that his captors were most probably the Venatori..."

Dorian winced slightly. "And as such, mostly Tevinter mages, with facial features not unlike my own, if not nearly as handsome... yes. He was terrified when he saw me. I could not understand his words, but from the way he spoke and looked at me... he was certain I was about to do horrible things to him. Until I mentioned your name, then he calmed down. Does he speak common at all?"

"He does. I taught him myself, although he probably won't be as fluent at it as I am, I doubt he got any practice after I left." She rubbed her eyes with a fist and stifled a yawn. "I worry about him, you know? He may be deadly with a bow, but deep inside he is very... innocent. In many different ways. Living outside the clan... without the clan... it may destroy him."

With a hand on his heart, the Tevinter offered her a deep bow. "He is your family, _amica_ , he will have my protection and support. I'm not saying I won't tease him a little, of course... when an opportunity presents itself, but all in good faith."

"That's what I was afraid of," she told him with a weary shake of her head, but no real rebuke in her voice.

"You know me." Smiling, Dorian stood and urged her to take his place on the chair. "You are falling asleep here. Since your bed is taken, feel free to peruse the most comfortable lounger around instead. I was about to go pester Bull anyway."

Ellana dropped onto the red cushions and purred, stretching her legs and enjoying her friend's warmth still lingering in the leather. "Are you happy with him?"

The Tevinter tilted his head. "You know how it is," he replied with a cryptic half-smile and made his way to the stairs.

"No... no, I don't, not really, but... but--" She was asleep long before Dorian took the first steps down.

In the rotunda below, Solas put the book away and closed his eyes, his mind entering the fade with the practiced ease of experience. As always, he had no trouble locating the Inquisitor there, relieved when he saw her engrossed in memories of her childhood with the clan. Still grieving, but not letting her fears and anger twist them into torture implements any longer. Once again, he watched over her from his hiding, as respect and admiration for the strength of her spirit grew.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ma melava halani - elvish: you helped me  
> ma serannas - elvish: thank you


	4. Introductions

"You have to leave this room at some point." Ellana tugged at her hair in frustration. "I do know it is not easy to face all those strangers, but you won't be alone. I'll be right there by your side. And they're my friends, not a bunch of bloodthirsty shems who want to enslave us all."

Mahanon embraced himself and stubbornly refused to move from his spot by the fireplace.

The inquisitor muttered a curse. "They saved your life, you ass. They risked their own lives to help me set you free. You owe them at least a thank you for that, and I'll let the dread wolf take me before I allow you to neglect that courtesy."

She regretted the harsh words the moment she spoke them, seeing pain slash across his features like a whip.

"I apologize, little one." Embracing her twin, Ellana kissed his temple. "You've been through a terrible ordeal, and you only had to deal with the clan and game before, you have all the right to feel uneasy among other races. But the longer you stay here, hiding from the outside world, the more difficult it will be to come out and face it. Besides, I... may not always be around, you need to... you need to learn how to live without the clan, how to be self-reliant."

He rested his forehead against her shoulder, trying to ignore the thinly veiled hint that being the Inquisitor might ultimately claim her life. "Since you insist that we talk like shems all the time, explain _self-reliant_. It's a new word."

"It means that you can provide for yourself and don't need other people to survive."

Mahanon snorted. "I am self-reliant," he told her firmly. "All I need is a bow, I can take care of myself without anyone's help. Who do you think provided for the clan all that time? Who scouted the roads ahead, who kept guard every night? Who made sure that they... that they were... safe."

"Stop." Ellana placed a finger on his lips. "Don't go there, brother. You were alone, with just Elthan and maybe Sentar to support you. Three bows, a handful of arrows, and the elderly Keeper against a horde of Venatori mages and heavy soldiers. We have never been a clan of warriors, there was nothing you could do to prevent the slaughter. I could have, but I had neglected that. This is on me, Mahanon, not on you."

He pushed her away. "If you hadn't stayed here, if you came back, none of that would happen!"

It was her turn to wince, his words hurting more than a punch in the face would. Choking back tears, she reached out her hand to him, the anchor glowing with the green of the fade there. "You really think I could simply pack my travel bags and return as if nothing happened? With this as an inseparable part of me? With some ancient darkspawn hounding me for it? With this being the only way to close the rifts? To save countless lives? "

" _It did not save the clan_ ," he told her in elvish, his eyes narrowed to slits. " _It's worth nothing to me_."

"Now you're just being cruel on purpose. I'm done." Ellana spun on her heel and rushed down the stairs, slamming the door behind her. In the cluttered walkway, she squeezed into a corner and slid to the floor, burying her face in her arms and letting herself cry at last.

The door opened and closed almost soundlessly and Mahanon sat by her side, pulling her into a rough embrace. "So... who am I supposed to meet first?"

She shot him a grateful, but watery smile. "Solas. He's an elf, like us... well, nothing like us, but he's an elf. And you can talk to him in our language, if you wish. I'm quite sure he'd love that, actually. He's also... someone very special to me."

Mahanon perked up at that news, a teasing spark there and gone from his eyes. "Are you together?"

"I wish," Ellana shrugged with a sigh. "I hope we can be, and I know he wants it, too, but he's taking his time. He did kiss me, though. And it was... ah, breathtaking."

"Just a kiss? In all that time you've been here?" He nudged her, feigning disbelief. "And why such a name? Did he choose it himself?"

The inquisitor raised an eyebrow. "I honestly do not know, never thought about it, really. But it fits him. He is proud of what we once were as people, and he wants all of that restored some day, somehow. To be honest, he knows more about our history than any Keeper I have ever met, so yes, he can be a bit... aloof if you try to tell him that Dalish are the only true elves. He seems to know for sure that we aren't and will never be."

Mahanon scratched his chin, struggling to remember a particular set of words he had once heard her use. "Sounds like a sanctimonious prig to me," he declared at last, glad that the difficult words elicited a small giggle form Ellana. "I definitely want to meet him now, but... if he tries to lecture me about our ways, I won't be nice."

***

They managed to sneak to the library wing unbothered by anyone, no doubt a favor from Varric, who began regaling the visitors with a riveting tale of his exploits with Hawke the moment he saw the siblings step into the main hall.

When the twins had emerged from the short corridor leading directly to the rotunda, Mahanon's eyes went wide at the sight of the spectacular painting there. He froze on the spot, looking around with lips parted, for the moment completely oblivious to everything else.

Ellana's gaze immediately went to Solas, expecting the usual quiet greeting from him. It did not come, however, as he was sitting with his back to them by the simple desk in the middle of the room, too engrossed in a book to register their presence.

"Dorian, do you have anything on the ancient Tevinter runes up there?" Solas called out after flipping through a few pages and frowning when he failed to find the information he wanted.

"Runes, you say?" The necromancer peeked over the railing, waved when he noticed Ellana, and disappeared again. "I am quite certain I have seen a monograph on them somewhere, give me a moment. Ah, yes. Incoming!"

When the heavy book landed on the desk with a loud thud, Mahanon twitched and instinctively reached to his back for the bow that wasn't there. Ellana patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"Much obliged." Solas turned to pick the thick tome, his gaze encountering the visitors at last. Stepping from behind the table, he approached them and bowed slightly. "Forgive me, sometimes I completely lose myself in my studies."

"Never worry," the Inquisitor replied with a smile. "My little brother was busy admiring your fresco, anyway. I believe he quite likes it."

With his trademark warm chuckle, the fade walker nodded at the young elf. "I am Solas. It is a pleasure to meet you at last, _lethallin_."

"Mahanon. And I believe we are not of the same blood." The hunter returned a curt bow, eyeing Solas' face with a mixture of curiosity and distrust.

Ellana nudged her brother. Wincing at his borderline rude tone, she intended to scold him, but Solas stopped her with a barely noticeable shake of his head. "So you would dismiss me for my lack of _vallaslin_ , I take it?"

"Yes," Mahanon barked in reply and, assuming that had concluded the argument, pointed to the walls. "These are excellent, however. I assume they tell a story?"

"Let us see the fresco, then," Solas agreed easily and, unfazed by the change of subject, guided the other elf to the first part of the painting. Pointing out the details, he began telling the story of the Inquisitor's exploits and rise to power, sparing no facts and avoiding embellishments. By the time they reached the latest piece, Ellana allowed herself to relax on the sofa, hoping that the crisis was over and the two would not end up arguing.

"You have been very busy, sister," her twin said when, at last, they rejoined her. "We did not know any of that... we had no news."

She sighed, turning her eyes away. "I suppose the Keeper had decided that it was better that way for you. So that you wouldn't worry... or think... about me too much. Not that I've ever been in any danger with Solas keeping an eye on me, and making sure I don't do anything silly."

"Her actions have always been honorable, and her path chosen to benefit those in need," the fade walker pointed out with a crooked smile. "She needs no supervision from anyone."

Mahanon snorted. "Of course she requires no supervision, she's Dalish."

"And being Dalish makes her, and by extension you, and all the Dalish in Thedas, infallible and superior, is that right?" There was a flash of carefully suppressed irritation in Solas' eyes.

Returning the glare, the young elf held his head high. "We are the only ones who preserve the ways of our ancestors, we are the true elves as opposed to those who squander in the alienages or sell themselves into slavery for coin."

Solas laughed out loud at that, without malice, only bitter amusement ringing in his voice. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but Dalish know nothing about their own history, or culture, for that matter. You are like children playing with shards of shiny treasures, turning them into cheap baubles instead of trying to piece them back together. For all the pride you take in the act, you have failed to preserve the truth. Utterly."

"But of course," the archer hissed, his eyes narrowed. "And I suppose you've seen those precious treasures whole with your very own eyes, and know everything about them from first-hand experience. Pray tell, why don't you come and enlighten us, then? Why don't you teach us, the unschooled masses, how to become worthy of your approval? Oh, wait, you're probably too important for such a menial task, isn't that right, _Solas_?"

"That's enough out of you, brother!" Ellana jumped to her feet at last and poked his chest with a finger.

"Indeed, I am quite done here," he interrupted her, pushing her hand away and turning to what he assumed was the exit. He rushed up the flight of stairs there, leaving his twin behind.

Upstairs, he found himself in a library, nearly face to face with the man who had carried him out of the dreadful tower. The one face he remembered better than others, better than those of his captors, for it was the only face during that nightmare that had offered him genuine kindness. Standing on the spot and unsure of what to do next, Mahanon managed a polite bow.

Dorian gathered himself from the armchair and greeted him with a flourishing bow of his own. "Dorian Pavus, resident necromancer and your dashing hero in silk armor, at your service." He leaned a little to the side to take a look at Ellana and Solas talking animatedly in hushed voices below. "That was remarkably refreshing, by the way. I love a good, heated debate, and this library hasn't seen one since... oh, forever. I believe I even saw Leliana, our spymaster upstairs, taking notes."

Mahanon found himself chuckling at that. "Entertaining as it probably was, I'm in for some serious scolding later on." He dismissed the thought with a wave of a hand. "So... you are a death mage, like my sister. And you teach her, too, yes?"

"Exactly so!" The Tevinter beamed proudly. "She's a remarkable student, I'll have you know. Matched my skill long ago."

"Not sure it's a good thing or bad," the elf admitted with a shrug, "but I'm glad she's not alone in this anymore. She speaks very highly of you, in fact. And... I believe I owe you an apology. I was weakened, but I do remember everything, how I mistook you for one of my torturers back at the tower.... you did not deserve that, and I should have known better. I hope there will be no harsh feelings between us because of that."

"Please, there is absolutely nothing for you to apologize for," Dorian protested. "You were distressed, and I was a breathless stranger holding you rather tightly in my arms. A thoroughly agreeable experience for me, granted, but considering what you had to endure in that place, you had no reason to believe I had good intentions."

"You are too kind." Mahanon felt heat creep to his cheeks. Hoping the man wouldn't notice, he padded over to the window to take a peek. "You have a good vantage point here," he complimented. "Outside, you can watch the main gate and several other entrances. Inside, you have both staircases in clear view... and you say the Inquisition's spymaster resides above, as well."

"Pure luck in choosing my favorite spot to pass the evenings, I'm afraid," the mage offered flippantly.

"I am supposed to believe that?" Mahanon shot him an incredulous stare.

Dorian laughed, leaning against the bookcase. "No, of course not. You have too keen an eye to let me pass for a silly mage."

"I'm... was the clan's master hunter," the elf explained in a muted voice. "It was my responsibility to watch and see."

"Naturally." The mage let out a small sigh. "For what it's worth, we have avenged them as best we could at that moment. We have done a thorough sweep of every nook and cranny of the tower, made sure there were no survivors except those we needed for questioning. And while you were recovering, Ellana spared no resources to track down and personally execute the one who has given the order."

For a long while Mahanon remained silent, his gaze focused on a distant point outside the window, his thoughts lost in the past. "I thank you," he said at last. "Ella refuses to talk about this with me. I suppose it hurts her too much. But for me... it would hurt much more to bury it deep and try to forget."

"Like a wound that festers until it's cleaned," Dorian offered, making the elf's eyes go wide for a moment at the sympathetic tone of his voice.

"Yes. It is good to know that shemlen could care enough to not let the slaughter go unpunished."

"We are a rather unique band of misfits, I'll admit. I'm sure you'll feel at home with us soon enough. Unless you murder the special and unique snowflake below first, but that might not put you in your sister's good graces."

"I can't help but notice that you do not seem to be fond of him, either."

"Ah. We have a tentative truce at best, and this library is our sacred ground where only knowledge matters. Outside... it will last until I inevitably say something that offends him just because I happened to be born in Tevinter. Then we'll snap at each other for a while until Ellana scolds us like the children that we are."

"That's my sister for you." Mahanon perched on the chair's armrest. "So you're from Tevinter?"

"Does that bother you?" Tilting his head, Dorian watched the elf's reaction carefully.

"Should it?"

"You ARE aware of the fact that my ancestors slaughtered your ancestors and turned to dust their entire civilization?"

Mahanon shrugged. "Have you ever gone on a rampage, murdering Dalish women, children and elders, burning their aravels, only to dance among the corpses?"

"No."

"And would you, if you could?"

The mage suppressed a shudder. "Of course not."

"Then why do you slander yourself just because you were born among those who would?" The archer stood and took a small step towards the mage. "By all accounts you are better than them, you should be proud of that. Unlike the... snowflake downstairs, you actually have a very good reason to be."

Dorian tilted his head, the elf's words taking him by surprise. "I... believe I have just been rendered completely speechless which, I assure you, does not happen often."

"Tell me how to get out of here," Mahanon suggested with a smirk. "I'd like to look around a bit. All I had so far was the view from Ellana's balcony."

"Allow me to be your guide, then."

The young hunter padded towards the railing and, making sure he wouldn't be noticed, peeked over the edge. Ellana and Solas were sitting on the sofa, holding hands and, to his surprise, Solas seemed to be the one trying to calm his sister down, not the other way round. Mahanon let out a small, relieved sigh at that. The last thing he wanted was to ruin her chance to be happy.

"Since my sister doesn't seem to be going anywhere any time soon," he said in a hushed voice, turning back to the mage, "I would appreciate your help. I believe she planned to introduce me to someone called... Iron Bull next. Do you know where we can find him?"

"Oh, do I ever." Smirking, Dorian pointed to a door nearby. "We can sneak out through there."

***

In the tavern, Mahanon took a hesitant step back when the Iron Bull stood up to introduce himself. Tilting his head to be able to look into the Qunari's eyes, he failed to find any words for a moment. "That... explains the name," he managed at last.

"I know, right?" Bull barked a cheerful laugh and carefully made himself comfortable in the creaking chair again. "You, in turn, look just like boss. Come on, Dorian, don't tell me you haven't noticed - same face, same eyes, same tattoos. Only much less tits. And much more handsome."

That made the elf sneer and step forward with his fists clenched. "I've care how you speak about my sister."

"Oh, and you're feisty just like her, too! Come on, elf, have a drink with us!" The horned man kept chuckling, waving a hand to one of the maids. "Ale for the thirsty!"

Dorian pulled two chairs over and offered one to the archer. "Don't mind the big and ugly. His mind is permanently in the gutter, but he does not mean disrespect. Quite the contrary, I'd say."

Mahanon moved his gaze from the Qunari to the mage and back. "In that case, I apologize," he offered, surprised how easy it was to trust the human's words.

"Manners. Wow." Bull nudged Dorian and nodded his approval.

Unsure of how to react to that, Mahanon forced a tiny smile to his lips and remained silent. Grateful for the distraction when the waitress brought the drinks, he accepted a mug and took a curious peek at the muddy liquid inside.

"Don't look at it," the Tevinter advised. "Don't smell it. Don't even taste. Just swallow and let it do its work inside. That's the only way to drink this swill."

"What he said," Bull clinked their mugs and downed his ale in one go, letting out a disgusted groan. "So, how do you like your sister's castle?"

"She's safe here. That's all that matters to me." Following the advice he'd been given, Mahanon took a generous swig, swallowed quickly and felt tears welling in his eyes when liquid fire traveled down his throat. He sputtered and coughed, and only after some struggle managed to take a full breath. "Ancestors... this was..."

"Flames and ashes. Acid and sand on an open wound. Why would they drink it willingly?" Cole materialized sitting on one of the steps, right behind the elf's back, watching him from under the brim of his ridiculous hat. "Light after darkness. Voices. I can't let them have me. Arms around me. Strong, warm. Please, don't hurt my sister. Please, let me die. So she can be safe. Fresh air. Cold. So very cold. Warmth comforting like the Keeper's spell. But Keeper is gone. Everyone is gone. Run, hide. I can not move. He says my name. His voice soothes. He brings safety. His eyes are kind. I can rest."

Mahanon dropped the mug and swayed in the chair as all color drained form his cheeks. Breathing in heavy gasps at the onslaught of painful memories in his mind, he buried his face in hands and tried to calm himself down, but in vain.

"Cole, hush!" Dorian finally snapped out of shock at the spirit's revelations, and placed himself between him and the elf. "Some thoughts are too private to put them out in the open like that. They hurt more if you do that."

"Oh... I am sorry..." He peeked at Mahanon over Dorian's shoulder. "I can make you forget, if you wish, would that hurt less?"

"What... are you? How did you.. Why would you..." The hunter dug his fingers deep into his thigh and managed to look up at last. In his still ghostly pale face, the intensely blue eyes seemed to glow furiously. "Never again, you hear me? Don't you dare do that to me ever again. Ever!"

Pouting, Cole vanished with another shy apology on his lips.

The necromancer returned to his chair, not quite sure what to do to ease the young archer's discomfort. Bull cleared his throat and stretched his impressive arms wide until the joints popped.

"You know what, little elf, it got late and duty calls, I have some recruits to train. Would you mind terribly if we continued our chat some time later?"

The courtesy of the easy lie did not escape Mahanon's attention. "Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse. "I... think I can make my way back to Ellana's quarters from here. I suppose I need... a rest."

"You have exerted yourself a little today, to be honest," Dorian scolded, following him to the exit, unasked.

"I am not a child to be coddled," Mahanon hissed, but stopped himself short and turned to face the mage. "Who was that man? How did he know... is he a blood mage to enter someone's mind and then disappear like that?"

Dorian pushed the door open and together they entered the courtyard, slowly making their way to the main part of the keep. "Cole is a... special case. He is a spirit of compassion in a human body. So to speak. He senses people's hurt and... in his own, sometimes clumsy way, tries to help reduce the pain or make it go away completely. For what it's worth, he genuinely meant to help."

"I... do not care much for such help," the elf grumbled, realizing that his cheeks were definitely not pale any more. "Thank you for escorting me, Dorian, I can make it from here."

The mage offered a polite nod, but stayed to watch him climb the stairs. _Just to make sure he does not stumble_ , he persuaded himself, as a warm smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

***


	5. Arrows Fly

"I am still mad at you and yes, you will." Ellana slammed her hand against the desk, glaring up at her brother.

Mahanon snorted. "I fail to see the point of me entering an archery contest. And what does that have to do with me atoning for offending your precious Solas, I wonder?"

"Nothing. It's just a favor I'm calling. Because otherwise you would never agree and I really want you to win."

"Why?"

She groaned. "So I can be shamelessly proud of you and rub it in whenever I talk to Sera. Her idiotic pranks are grating on my nerves, this would be my revenge."

"Didn't think you could be so petty, sister." The hunter raised an eyebrow and sat back more comfortably on the sofa. "I haven't met that Sera yet. How good is she with a bow?"

"One of the best I've seen, but she's also... different. You need to act her way or get out, there's no middle ground with her. And gods forbid you mention anything nice about elves, she'll kill herself laughing at you. I'm surprised she hasn't clipped her ears yet to pass for a human."

Rubbing his chin, Mahanon let an impish grin creep on his lips. "In that case, I will definitely enter that tournament. Will Varric be competing, too? I would love to see that crossbow of his in action."

"As much as I'm curious which of you would win, he's not allowed to compete. Cassandra's doing, no doubt." Ellana giggled and shook her head. "Probably for the best, though. Bianca sure is a minx, you might not stand a chance against her charms."

***

Despite heavy rains that had plagued Skyhold for nearly a week, on the day of the tournament, the weather decided to cooperate. The sun was warm and bright, drying up most of the puddles by noon.

Mahanon tried out the bow his sister had made especially for him and sighed, wishing he could hold his old weapon one more time.

"Not quite satisfied with it, I take it?" Ellana joined him in the armory, a crease of worry on her forehead.

"It is a masterwork bow," he praised, caressing the heavily ornamented limb. "But I am used to a simpler one. I've trained enough with this one to make sure my aim is flawless, yes, but... I still feel slightly... odd holding it. It is hard to explain."

The Inquisitor nodded. "I understand. The first time I picked a new staff, it was weird, too. All that power humming inside, not quite in tune with my own magic... it takes time to get used to. You've only had a few days with this bow, no wonder it feels strange to you still." Patting his shoulder, Ellana headed back outside. "Anyway, there is no doubt in my heart that you can win this contest, little brother."

The door hadn't closed fully behind her, when another figure sneaked into the armory. An elf girl, a bow at her back and flaxen hair unevenly chopped around her face. Sera, he realized.

"And what are you supposed to be? A cheap Inky knockoff?" She asked, her face twisted in a grimace of disgust while she eyed him from head to toe.

Mahanon stepped back and glared at her. _"Era seranna ma?"_

"Pffft. Blah blah blah. Like I care what you said." The other elf made a retching noise, then spun on her heel to leave. "Just as I thought, you're so elfy you make me sick."

"Well, you're a pathetic _excuse_ for an elf, so that makes us even." The hunter sneered. _"Tel'abelas."_

A forced chortle was the only answer he got.

***

Before the first round had started, each contestant was given a choice of a colored scarf to wear throughout the tournament, to allow the spectators openly pledge support for their favorite champion. Mahanon picked a mossy green one and tied it around his thigh, to avoid having it get in the way while shooting.

The official presentation of competitors was satisfyingly short, with only eleven participants willing to try their skills. After that, at long last, the main event was about to begin. When Mahanon stepped onto the shooting range that had been arranged on the courtyard, he was surprised to see several mossy green scarves adorning necks and waists of his very own fans. He had not expected that, but felt pleasantly flattered, even more so once he realized that Sera's chosen vivid red color was only slightly more popular.

The first several rounds of the contest passed by in a blur, and soon it became obvious that the two elves would be the ones competing for the grand prize. Mahanon was certain that he had enough skill to win. Sera was a formidable opponent, that was undeniably true, but she was also sloppy, easily distracted and thrown out of focus. Her arrows had the tendency to fly a bit to the left, too, suggesting a flaw with her bow itself that, if uncorrected every single time while aiming, could cost her a victory once they got to the moving targets.

Predictably, the first part of the final round once again ended up with a tie between them, even despite a rather strong gust of wind that had swirled the dead leaves on the ground, making Mahanon lower his bow at the very last moment before he released an arrow. Ignoring his opponent's mocking snigger, he waited patiently and, the instant the leaves landed softly on the cobblestones, he sent the arrow directly into the center of his target.

After a round of applause, the announcer invited everyone to the bridge outside the keep, where the grand finale of the contest would take place. There were three clay targets prepared for each of them, all three would be tossed in the air at the same time, all three small enough to make hitting them extremely challenging. Mahanon graciously offered that the other elf went first, earning himself another set of muttered insults from her, and another round of cheering from the crowd.

"Take that, fake Inky!" Sera yelled after she had successfully dispatched two out of three of her targets. "I bet you can't even hit one."

"We will see about that, _lethallan_ ," he replied in a calm voice, purposefully adding the undeserved endearment to aggravate her. Enjoying her annoyed snarl that his words had brought, he took the position, nocked an arrow and drew the bow.

"Throw!"

The three clay targets flew right past him, allowing the hunter to take down the first one straight away. Following their movement, he instantly prepared the second arrow and was ready to unleash it, when a flash of white had caught his eye, making him instinctively turn his gaze towards it... only to see Dorian, pushing his way to the front of the crowd, a mossy green scarf tied in an elegant knot around his waist.

When Mahanon recovered from shock and managed to re-focus, his targets have just crashed against the snowy rocks below.

"What a loser!" Sera pointed her finger at him, chortling gleefully before the cheering crowd swept her away and carried back to the keep.

"What, by ancestors, was that?" Ellana rushed towards her brother, her cheeks reddened and anger in her eyes. "You let her have this victory! You just stood there with mouth open like a daft child and let those targets fly! I can't believe you! You were supposed to win this! Do you have any idea how insufferable Sera is going to be now? Why would you do that to me? Why?"

Mahanon took a deep breath, drew the bow again, and finally released the arrow he had kept nocked all that time. Refusing to acknowledge his sister's presence, he watched it fly in a wide arc, far, far away, until it disappeared from sight. Only then did he turn and look into Ellana's narrowed eyes. He said nothing.

"I hate you sometimes." The Inquisitor punched her brother's chest and left in a huff, her booted feet treading heavily.

The hunter took a deep, calming breath, but it failed to stop his hands from shaking. A polite cough nearby did not help with that, either. He wanted to be alone to try and deal with his shame, and yet the courtesy kept being denied to him.

"Was there a problem with the bow?" Dorian asked, approaching, his white silk outer robe shimmering in the bright sunlight as he moved.

Mahanon growled quietly, glaring at the man in front of him, at the infuriatingly warm smile, enhanced by the infuriatingly curled mustache, both seemingly mocking him. "Solas was right about one thing," he snapped at last. "One truly can't hear you over your outfit."

The necromancer schooled his expression expertly, nothing but an amused twitch of one eyebrow betrayed that the elf's words had affected him at all. "Ah, and here I thought my best robe would be appropriate to celebrate your victory. Silly me."

"Yes, rub it in, go right ahead." Mahanon spun on his heel and rushed towards the keep's gates. He did not go far when Dorian caught up, grabbing his arm and forcing the elf to stop and face him.

"I do understand that your Dalish pride has been wounded today," he said, his head tilted slightly to the side and his eyes never leaving the archer's face. "What I fail to understand, however, is why you have chosen to vent your frustration on me, of all the people."

"Seriously?" With an angry tug, the younger Lavellan pulled his arm from the mage's grip. He wanted to grab the man, shake him firmly for being so thoughtlessly oblivious, but... a gust of wind rustled their clothes, the two mossy green scarves danced together for a moment, tangling and untangling gracefully in the cold mountain breeze. Mahanon sighed, and felt himself blushing under the inquiring gaze of Dorian's eyes.

"It was entirely my fault. I got distracted when my focus should have been unwavering. That is all. I apologize for my harsh words." Bowing slightly, he turned away once again and left, relieved when the necromancer did not stop him that time.

Dorian folded his arms on his chest, watching the elf's lithe silhouette disappear in the distance. It took him a moment to put the pieces of the puzzle together and, when they finally had fallen into their right places, he groaned. " _Kaffas_. Damned be my good intentions."

***

"Talk to me about the Fade," Ellana pleaded, throwing herself on the sofa in the rotunda and curling around a pillow. "Or let me kiss you senseless, either works, because my brother and I have just become punching bags for Sera's horrible sense of humor, and you have always been my safe haven from shit like that."

Solas smiled, with that patient and fond smile of his she loved so much. Putting away the book he had been reading, the fade walker sat back in his chair. He steepled his fingers and watched her for a moment, his face unreadable. "Have I told you about a kind spirit I called the Matchmaker?"

Ellana pouted. "And here I hoped you would go for the kisses..."

"I did not forget our kiss in the fade," he declared, approaching her and reaching out an inviting hand. When she took it, he helped her up and, without saying a word of explanation, led her to her quarters.

"Let's talk about you, Inquisitor," he began once they stepped out to the balcony, high above the cheering and dancing crowd still celebrating Sera's victory in the contest. "Has the mark changed you in any way? Changed who you are?"

"Apart from turning my life upside down and allowing me to meet you?" Ellana grinned up at him. "No, not really. I've always been the same big-mouthed idiot you know now. Why?"

He did not laugh this time, instead, his fingers still holding her hand dug a little deeper into her flesh. "I meant your mind. Your morals. Your.... spirit."

"Oh." She shifted uncomfortably, not quite sure where he was heading with that. "Not that I've noticed? I'm the same me I have always been, my decisions today are the same they would have been without the anchor... only affecting the whole of Thedas instead of just me... but I'd rather not think about it that way. Too much of a burden. It... scares me, to be honest."

With a non-committal sound, he let go of her hand.

"Have I... disappointed you, Solas? I mean, I know I'm far from what you would call the perfect elf, but still... I think I have accomplished _something_ already, even by the highest standards. Like reuniting Briala with the empress, so elves can have an officially acknowledged representative in the court." She rubbed her forehead, a little frustrated that he seemed to want her to go on defending herself against an unknown accusation. "I do try to do my best for our people, but without playing favorites. That would be harmful the long run if we gained anything at another race's expense. Ancestors, I am not a diplomat like Josie, but... if I can help the elves without hurting anyone in the process, if I can help them raise above poverty and slavery, above their pitiful existence... you know I will. At all cost. What more do you expect of me?"

"Please, Ellana. That is not what I meant." He hushed her with a gesture. "I am new to this world, even more so than your brother is. Having only dreams and memories for reference, I have come here expecting... something different, worse. And yet, here you are, showing subtlety and wisdom in your actions I have only seen in the elves of the ancient times. You've changed my perception of this world, proved me wrong about your people, you changed... everything."

"This is a good thing, right?"

"It is." Solas smiled at last, reaching up to cup her cheek in his palm. "Very good."

With that he turned away, getting ready to leave.

"If you think I will let you go now, you better think again," Ellana warned, grabbing his arm and tugging at it firmly.

"It would be kinder in the long run," he said cryptically, refusing to look at her, until he spun with a barely audible growl and sealed her lips with a passionate kiss. "But losing you would..."

"You are not going to lose me, I promise. Not to demons, not to dragons, not to ancient Tevinter magister darkspawn whatever, either," she murmured, wrapping herself around him. "You're stuck with me, so shut up and kiss me again."

He did. And when they parted at last, both more than a little breathless, he looked deep into her eyes and spoke the words she had been waiting so long for.

_"Ar lath ma, vhenan."_

Before she had a chance to react... he was gone.

Unable to express her happiness in any other way, the mighty Inquisitor turned to face the snowy mountain tops in the distance and squealed at the top of her lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> era seranna ma = elvish: excuse me  
> tel'abelas = elvish: I'm not sorry  
> kaffas = tevene: shit  
> ar lath ma, vhenan = elvish: I love you, my heart


	6. The Hissing Wastes

"We're heading out in a few days," Ellana announced three weeks later, when her brother joined her on the battlements outside Cullen's office. "It will be a long expedition, may take us a month or more. Would you like to join us?"

He rolled his shoulders. "Where are we going?"

The inquisitor smiled. Mahanon wanting to stay behind was never really a possibility. "The Hissing Wastes. Our spies have uncovered that the Venatori are looking for some powerful artifact there, something that could change the tide of this war in their favor, and we can't allow for that to happen. We are kicking their behinds left and right, and winning, but... I believe this could be the final blow that would shatter Corypheus' faith in his servants." She sighed, worry marking her features. "If we manage to get it before them, whatever it is."

"And you're taking the egghead with you, no doubt," her brother looked at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Ellana smiled dreamily. "Of course, and I'll be shamelessly hoping to get under his blanket during the cold desert nights."

"You mean you two still haven't--?" There was genuine surprise reflecting on the archer's face. "By the way you two hold hands and kiss when you think no one is looking, I figured you for lovers."

"Alas," she sighed again, leaning over the low wall and staring blankly into the distance. "He's very withdrawn after all that time he had spent alone, mostly sleeping. It's not very easy for him to show affection or even talk about it, I've noticed. And he's grim and fatalistic, too. He thinks all this will end with my death, judging by how often he talks about losing me."

Mahanon tilted his head, his gaze piercing. "I might have misjudged him," he offered. "Not in saying that he is a sanctimonious prig, that's a fact, but in my assessment of his intentions towards you. I've been watching him. I see how he looks at you, how he always has a smile for you when you're around, even when he's tired or irritated by--" He stopped abruptly, covering his last words with a cough.

"All right, let me guess, you and Dorian keep making his life miserable, am I right? Don't deny, Leliana always giggles when she informs me that she saw you two together in the library again. And when Leliana giggles, heads are about to roll, brother."

"Yes, I am quite afraid of that woman." Chuckling, the hunter tried to take an innocent look and failed miserably. "But I have great respect for her skill, and for her men. They truly are the best trackers I've met. And the stories they tell!"

"Don't change the subject," the Inquisitor poked her brother's chest with an accusatory finger. "What have you and Dorian done, I want to know!"

"Oh, we mostly switch out his books for Orlesian romances, especially the really steamy ones. With absolutely shameless illustrations." Taking a step back, Mahanon let his lips stretch in a brazen smile. "The really interesting thing is that while most make him furious, some do, in fact, make him blush. If you want to, I can provide titles of those special ones."

For a few heartbeats Ellana simply stared, her eyes wide in shock. "You two are worse than Sera, and I have never, ever, EVER thought I would be able to say that about anyone, least of all about my brother and my best friend!"

"Well, Dorian does say I bring out the best in him," the archer offered, winking at her. "So... do you want that list?"

"Oh, shut up." Sighing, the Inquisitor pushed him away with a playful shove. "I guess I should be glad that you get on so well with Dorian. I would be heartbroken if you treated him like almost everyone else does. Evil magister from Tevinter who's only here for personal gain and to steal our souls. And eat babies, no doubt. Boo-hoo."

"Well, I wouldn't want him for an enemy, that is for sure. Not after I've seen him in a fight when you dragged us to the Storm Coast to kill the dragon. He looked miserable all soaked up in the rain, his pretty robes and hair ruined, but he was a force to reckon with regardless." Mahanon reached into one of his pockets to touch the mossy green scarf he kept hidden there. "But he is also very wise. Sometimes I have a feeling that he's read all the books in the world - ask him about anything, and he not only knows details, but also has an educated opinion on the subject. And he's a good man, too. What he tries to achieve for his country... a lesser man would think it an impossible task, but not him."

"Sadly, most people don't bother to get to know him better, past that flippant, easy-going act he has for them." Nodding, Ellana let out a small groan. "Well, back to work. Make sure to go see Dagna to have something appropriate for desert lands fashioned for you. Tell her to spare no rare materials for it. We did kill that dragon, after all. I'll go inform the others about the mission."

"Who will that be?"

"Well, as we have already agreed, I need my daily dose of Solas. Same goes for Bull and Dorian, I'd rather not separate the two, it might make them grumpy. So I suppose the team setup has been pretty much decided for me."

Mahanon felt the world spin under his feet and had to lean against the wall for support. "Dorian and Bull are...?"

"What, you mean you had no idea?" Ellana chuckled, oblivious to her brother's distress at the news. "Not that I'm a great fan of that relationship, mind you, but at least Dorian stopped drinking himself into a stupor almost every night. Now he gets his punishment from Bull, and if that works for him, it's none of my business, really. Certainly healthier for him... I hope."

"Drinking? Punishment? What..."

She shook her head. "Should have kept my mouth shut. It's none of our business, _lethallin_. I did see and hear something by a... rather unfortunate accident once, but I won't spread rumors. I don't want to know, I don't even understand how that works, and it's their private affair, nothing for me to meddle with." Sighing, she headed for the stairs. "Anyway, start getting ready, little one. It'll be a long trip."

Mahanon didn't feel like going at all any more.

***

"Fuck, that's a lot of ground to cover," Bull grumbled when they stood on top of a large rock, looking at the vast expanse of sand around them. "And we have no camps established here whatsoever. This is gonna be fun."

Dorian inhaled deeply, not a single bead of sweat on his forehead despite the sun making others sizzle. "Ah, I love the air. Such a pleasant change after all the cold rain, creeping mist, and moldy humidity."

"Hothouse orchid indeed," Ellana grumbled, remembering a letter from the mage's friend she had once received. She wiped her face dry with a sleeve and leaned heavily on her staff. "If only we knew where to start, or at least what to look for, that would be grand. As it is... we'll be stuck here for months."

"Giving up, _vhenan_?" Solas chuckled. "Feeling defeated is so unlike you, Inquisitor."

"By the dread wolf, of course I'm not giving up." She protested, feigning offense. "We'll conquer this desert and turn it into a giant lake out of spite, have no doubt, I just wish we had... a more substantial lead to start with."

Standing a little to the side from the rest of the group, Mahanon kept looking around, memorizing the locations of notable landmarks as his keen eyes sought for anything unusual. The air smelled of sand and salt and offered no clues, the scorching, dry breeze promised no respite from the heat, and he found himself cursing inwardly. His tracking skills weren't exactly worthless there, but he realized he wouldn't be of much use in the open desert.

"There," he pointed to the east where a thin, only barely noticeable wisp of smoke stained the brilliant blue sky in the distance. "A campfire."

"I don't see anything," the Quari squinted, then frowned.

"Maybe if you had two eyes, you would," the archer snapped back, jumping off the rock to lead the way. He hissed when the hot sand blistered his feet.

"Sounds like your footsies don't appreciate much being bare here," Bull countered easily. "Let me know when you want me to carry you, little one."

Mahanon growled. "I'm quite all right, thank you."

"Or would you rather have Dorian carry you again, hmm? He damn sure is prettier than I. And he smells better in this heat, too. Like fresh laundry."

Before Dorian had any chance to react to that, the air whined, pierced by an arrow that lodged itself in a small crack in the stone, right between the horned giant's feet.

"Do not ever mock the man who saved my life. Don't you dare."

"We've all saved your life, _lethallin_. Together." Ellana let out a frustrated groan. "Now, are you quite done flexing, boys? If yes, then let's just find out who's camping over there, so we can either kill them or ask for directions." Dragging her feet, she followed her brother, but stopped after a few paces, and turned to face Bull. "I may take you up on that offer of carrying an elf later on, if that's all right with you."

The Qunari grinned and saluted. "For you, anything, boss. Heck, I'll carry all of you, if need be."

***

The night surprised them, coming quickly and drowning the land in near pitch black darkness of the moonless sky. With an elegant flick of wrist, Dorian started a merry fire directly on the sand, allowing them to set up camp by its light.

Ellana shamelessly placed her bedroll right next to Solas' and dropped onto it with a pitiful groan. "I hate this desert."

The fade walker sat cross-legged by her side and offered her water from his supply, making sure to cover the cup with frost first.

"Oh, you spoil me, _vhenan_." She thanked him, leaning against his shoulder to sip the refreshingly cool liquid. "How are your feet? Perhaps I could tempt you with some wraps at least? This sand must be unbearably hot."

"It is indeed somewhat painful," Solas admitted. "But if I protect my feet from the discomfort, they will never get used to it. Enduring the new pain is the only way to harden my soles to it."

"And that's what I like about you," Bull offered, stretching comfortably on his blanket, the firelight twisting the shadow of his horned head into a grotesque shape on the sand behind him. "You take the pain and learn to ignore it until it's gone. That's how warriors are made."

The elf smiled. "Speaking of warriors and battles, I believe we haven't finished our little sparring match yet." Narrowing his eyes slightly, he focused his intense gaze on the Qunari. "Knight to F5."

Bull closed his eyes and pondered for a while. "Pawn to C6," he said with a smug grin on his face. "Left your tamassran hanging out."

"And you your knight," Solas chuckled. "Or ben-hassrath, if you will. Pawn to G4."

With a dramatic sigh, Dorian sprawled on his stomach next to Bull and rested his chin on a hand. "Here they go again," he muttered, sending Ellana an exasperated look. "Perhaps we should start our own game, _amica_?"

The inquisitor rolled her eyes. "Please. I have a problem with wicked grace, you really think I could pull something like that off?"

"I have no doubt you could... eventually," the Tevinter assured her with a wink. "But right now it's still too hot to bother our pretty heads with too much thinking."

"Agreed." Ellana shifted to lie down with her head rested on Solas' thigh. "Just... wake me up when you two are done," she murmured, patting his knee and smiling when she felt his fingers sneak into her hair to play with the inky strands.

"Ben-hassrath to F6," Bull hissed, waggling eyebrows at his opponent.

"Tower to G1," Solas shot almost instantly, clearly expecting the move.

"Hah! Pawn takes your tamassran. Or mage. Whatever it is."

"I get the idea," the fade walker drawled, but did not counter Bull's move with his own.

"What, you done? Too much time playing with spirits?" The Qunari teased.

With a crooked smile, Solas shook his head. "We shall see."

"No hurry. I sure as heck can wait to kick your ass at this," Bull offered graciously and looked around their camp. When he noticed Mahanon spreading his bedroll far away from them, at the very edge of the ring of light, he frowned. "You still mad at me, little one?"

The archer ignored him, pulling out a flask from his pack and taking a long swig.

"Leave him be, Bull," Ellana pleaded in a soft whisper. "He needs to keep his distance at night."

There was something in the tone of her voice that made the Qunari drop the issue. "All right, I'm taking the first watch. Judging by the slight glow on the horizon, the moon should be up in about two hours, who wants to take over then?"

Together, they had quickly established a rotation and, before long, Ellana was comfortably curled up against Solas, and Dorian decided to use Bull's rolled blanket as an extra pillow.

Mahanon did not sleep, however. With his back turned to the fire, he watched the darkness in front of him, focusing on the sound of his own breathing to keep fear at bay. Fear of being trapped, unable to see or hear, fear of becoming a powerless instrument whose sole purpose was to have his sister killed. Closing his eyes tightly, he allowed himself a silent sob. Same ritual, every single night. Same futile struggle to keep the memories at bay, until the exhaustion won, dragging him under, down into the deep dark abyss of nightmares.

Faint whispers reached him, but the moment he recognized Bull's voice and a muffled chuckle it had elicited form Dorian, the elf dug his fingers deep into the sand, clawing at it to keep himself focused on something else. Now that he knew about their relationship, he could see the closeness between the two. Bull's lusty looks, especially. How could he possibly fail to notice all that before, he had no idea, but he only had himself to blame for allowing false hopes grow over time.

The glow from the fire gradually died out, indicating that the mage sustaining it had fallen asleep at last. In the silence undisturbed by words, Mahanon could hear the omnipresent sand, forever shifting in the dark, sliding in cascades off the dunes, settling down with a subtle hiss... there was a pattern there, subtle, complex, but still possible to follow. And yet... there was a hitch in it. A false tone. The elf perked up, his hand instinctively reaching for the bow by the bedroll. Soon, he caught the faintest tinkle of metal rings. Without a moment of hesitation, he sat up and picked the weapon. In a blur of moves practiced so well they were as natural as breathing, he had an arrow nocked and sent it flying towards the source of the unnerving sound. A groan of pain indicated that it hit the mark, rousing the rest of his companions from their sleep.

Within just moments, the area in a wide circle around the camp had been illuminated with flames and veilfire, revealing several Venatori assassins trying to creep up on them from all sides. Noticing a heavily armed shield-bearer among them, Bull growled furiously and charged at the man, knocking him over and never allowing him to get back on his feet under the onslaught of furious blows from the Qunari's axe. The three mages stood together, raining death on the rest of the attackers, dispatching them one by one.

Mahanon kept his arrows flying, picking loose targets constantly pouring in from the darkness, and crippling them for the others to finish off with magic. One had managed to escape him, disappearing in a puff of smoke, and reappearing dangerously close to his sister.

"Ellana, to the left!"

She spun immediately, but the rogue managed to vanish once again, leaving her angry and confused. The assassin had revealed himself again at a distance, mocking her, dashing and rolling from left to right skillfully enough to make her spells miss him not once, but twice.

"Dread wolf take you!" Ellana growled angrily, preparing another spell. Before she could unleash it, however, the rogue found himself encased in a thick layer of ice.

"Indeed," Solas said with a crooked smile and leaned over to kiss Ellana's temple. "All yours, _vhenan_."

With a truly impish grin, the Inquisitor smashed the man to pieces with a powerful lightning bolt.

When the fight was over and Dorian started another fire, Bull returned to the camp, dragging a bloodied soldier behind him, holding the screaming man by his leg that did not quite bend in the right way.

"Left this one for questioning," he offered, dropping the prisoner near the fire. "But hurry, he doesn't have long."

"We can give him time." Solas poured a small rejuvenating spell into the man, making his breathing easier and the pain less crippling for the senses.

Dorian nodded approvingly and sent a daring look to Ellana. "My dear student, care to practice your skills? A carefully altered horror spell should make him sing, so to speak."

The Inquisitor accepted the challenge and, after consulting her fellow necromancer on the finer points, cast the spell, engulfing the man at her feet in the purple aura of fear.

"No! Not this! Not them!" He pleaded in a frantic cry, covering himself from imaginary adversaries. "I'll tell you anything, just take them away, make them stop, please! Please!"

"He seems to be ready to share some information with us." Solas dispelled the magic, stopping the panicked writhing and allowing the prisoner to breathe.

If there was any resolve to oppose them left in the man, it had disappeared the moment Dorian nonchalantly called a spell to his fingertips, letting the purple flame sit in the palm of his hand, ready to bring back the horrors. A playful, yet expertly mean smile stretched the Tevinter's lips, completing the image of a ruthless magister for the prisoner's sake.

Before the Venatori died of blood loss, he had not only offered them the location of the group's base of operations, but also generous hints at their plans for the area that involved robbing ancient dwarven tombs and figuring out some impossible puzzles to open them.

"Well, boss," the Iron Bull began, cleaning his axe with a handful of sand, "I believe you wanted some more substantial leads to follow. Careful what you wish, huh?"

Ellana laughed. "Don't tell me you did not enjoy a bit of blood rush on a dark, moonless night."

"Ah, but you know me so well, boss," he replied with a grin. "We owe our lives to your little brother, though. He was the one to spot them and alert me."

"We need to move the camp." Mahanon ignored the acknowledgement and rolled up his blankets. "Too much blood around, might attract some wild animals."

"Grump." Bull muttered a curse and moved on to help the others pack up.

***

"Solas..." Ellana called softly when they had settled up in a new area, far away from the place of the slaughter. She sneaked onto the fade walker's bedroll and rested her chin on his shoulder, glad that his eyes were open and shining in the moonlight. "We never really talked about my magic... about necromancy. What do you... can you find it in yourself to accept that I chose it?"

He turned his head to look at her, his face serious. "Why ask now?"

"Well... there was something in your eyes when you rushed to dispel that horror I put on the Venatori... it worried me... no, frightened me, it looked like you did not approve, like you... like you hated me for it."

Solas pulled her closer, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. "That is not what I felt, _vhenan_. I was merely worried that we might lose our prisoner before getting anything useful out of him. But tell me, what made you pursue necromancy?"

Ellana sighed. "It was not a conscious choice, not really. It simply... happened. I was still a child then, the Keeper and I were training one day, she was showing me how to bend fade energies to make my lightning spells stronger and... I accidentally killed a little fluffy fennec. I was heartbroken, I wanted it to get up and go about its business, and then I felt some... presence in the fade. I can't really explain how or why, but I thought it was that poor creature's essence, so I forced it back into its body... Sure, it did get up and began running around in circles, but, as you can imagine, it was as far from being alive as before."

"That's remarkable... like everything about you," Solas complimented smoothly. "It sounds like you drew one of the wisps across the veil, a simple task for a mage experienced in that form of magic, but for a beginner like you were back then? Almost unheard of."

Reaching for his hand, Ellana laced their fingers, the warmth of his skin chasing the chill of the night away. "Dorian explained to me that necromancy draws... spirits from the fade and makes them do things to my opponents here... I... you are friends with so many spirits, Solas, they are important to you. What if I... some day... what if..."

"Hush. I have watched you use this magic for quite some time now, I know it for a fact that you only call upon the simple constructs that can not be considered spirits. They lack intelligence, they aren't more than excess energy gathering in areas where the veil is weak." Solas smiled into her hair, enjoying the feel of her body gradually relaxing against him as he spoke. "Dorian has taught you well. He and I have our differences, but I can see that neither of you is power hungry and willing to sacrifice an actual spirit for the sake of amplifying your abilities."

"Thank you." Ellana breathed a sigh, relieved. "And I bet my staff Dorian would want to hear that high praise from you."

"I have, _amica_ , I have." The Tevinter's voice was hushed, but marked with emotions that she could not quite name.

***

"Okay, let's fuck shit up!" The Iron Bull woke them at sunrise, all packed up and ready to go while they rubbed their eyes sleepily. "We still need to wait for the little one, though. He sneaked out a couple of hours ago and headed for where the nearest Venatori camp is supposed to be. Thought I didn't notice, silly elf."

"And you just let him?" Ellana jumped to her feet, her eyes darting to the lonely bedroll abandoned away from the camp. "What if something happened to him?"

"Easy, boss, don't be such a mother hen." Bull shrugged and nudged Dorian, who refused to acknowledge the start of a new day. "It seemed to me he couldn't sleep anyway, so it's best that he uses that extra time to scout ahead. Will make the trek there much safer for us."

Muttering a curse, the Inquisitor marched off to her brother's sleeping bag and busied herself packing it up. "One day I will commit a horrible act of murder, Bull, and you shall be the victim, I swear."

"Mother hen."

"Oh, fine!" She kicked the sand in frustration. "I almost lost him once, excuse me while I worry too much."

" _Venhedis_ , have a care, I'm nursing a headache here." Dorian finally sat up and moaned, rubbing his temples while trying to glare properly.

"Would you like a tonic for that?" Solas asked, reaching for his backpack. "You exerted yourself last night during the attack. Controlling the battlefield like you had for most of the battle always takes its toll on the body."

The Tevinter shook his head. "I appreciate the concern, but I think what I need is a long stiff drink."

Grinning, Bull easily took the opening for a tease. "Oh, I can have something long and stiff for you if--"

"Do you mind? Headache, remember?" With another groan, Dorian dropped back onto his blankets.

"What? I've heard it's the best cure, if you know what I mean."

Solas only rolled his eyes at that. "Children. Twelve year olds. All of you."

" _Lethallin_!" Ellana noticed Mahanon approaching and rushed towards him, throwing herself into his arms and nearly crushing the elf in a tight hug. "Don't ever do that again, little one! Don't disappear on me while I do not know where you went. Please."

Surprised at the intensity of her reaction, the archer returned the hug, patting her back in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "I can take care of myself, sister, you never need to worry. And I found a lair of some desert creature that is nearby, it's well hidden and we would have wandered right into it otherwise. The creature seems to be having its young, so it might be very dangerous. There's a safe route we can take to avoid it, though."

"What about those Venatori bastards?" Bull demanded. "Numbers? Lookouts?"

"About a dozen of them, with at least two spellbinders. We'll have to take down those two first, as per usual. I didn't want to get too close to the camp itself, but from what I could see there are four guards up at all times, no other precautions." Picking an arrow from the quiver at his back, he quickly drew a basic plan of the camp in the sand. "They have settled in a dwarven looking ruin, it's slightly elevated, making them easy targets for us. The structure is mostly buried in the sand, but it seems they have uncovered the entrance already."

The Qunari beamed proudly and gave Ellana a nudge powerful enough to make her stagger. "He's amazing. I'd totally recruit him for my Chargers if I didn't know you'd cut my horns for it."

"I totally would," she replied, struggling to hide a smile. "And I'm still mad at you."

"Oh, I can sure see that, boss." Chuckling, Bull turned to Dorian and helped him up. "You think you can make it through the day, gorgeous? Or should I pick you up and carry you around like an expensive accessory?"

"Tempting, but I'll live, unfortunately." The Tevinter stretched and winced when it brought dark spots to his eyes. "I think I will even be of some use in battle, just... don't yell at me for the next few hours. Solas, do you think you could--"

"About time you asked," the elf scolded and briefly engulfed Dorian in a soothing, emerald green glow of restorative magic. "Let me know when it wears off."

The necromancer let out a delighted purr and bowed. "Thank you kindly."

"And do let others have some fun in battle next time." Ellana patted his back and handed him a cup filled with water, glaring until he drank it all.

"I shall behave, _amica_ ," he promised with an impish smile that said otherwise.

***


	7. Whispers in the Dark

"That was almost too easy," Ellana mused when the door to the dwarven crypt opened with a crunching sound of stone sliding against stone. "I can't believe the Venatori, with all their resources, had failed to figure it out."

Dorian laughed out loud, lifting the veilfire torch to illuminate the walls as they walked into the burial chamber. "You give us too little credit, _amica_. Why not assume we're just brilliant enough to make a puzzle impossible to solve for them, become trivial for us?"

"I like how you think," Bull stated in all seriousness, and proceeded to smash one locked coffer after another with his axe so that Ellana could plunder the contents. In the meantime, Mahanon busied himself with the lock on the large chest by the sarcophagus. 

"Mostly worthless trinkets," the Inquisitor complained with a pout. "Let's hope that the man prize holds something actually worth all the effort... how is that going, little brother?"

After a while, the archer huffed, frustrated, and retrieved another lockpick from the holder at his belt, replacing the broken one in the keyhole. "I'm half tempted to just ask Bull to smash this thing to splinters as well. I have never seen such a messed up lock, I swear."

"We can't risk damaging whatever is in there, sadly," Dorian approached, providing more light in hope to make the elf's task easier.

"I'm not really a lock expert," Mahanon admitted shyly, but smiled when he heard a promising click from the mechanism. "It's just something I learned out of necessity, unlike some that make it a way of living..."

With another click the lock had finally disengaged, allowing the heavy lid to be lifted. They all gathered around the chest, peeking in and not bothering to contain their disappointed groans.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Bull voiced their thoughts, reaching inside to pick the only treasure placed there - a tiny piece of oddly shaped metal. "What's that little shit supposed to be?"

"Looks like a part of something bigger," Solas offered, taking the thing from the Qunari to examine it closely.

Ellana groaned. "Another puzzle, great. A puzzle in a puzzle, that I bet leads to another puzzle with a puzzle inside. I really hate dwarven sense of humor sometimes."

"Don't let Varric catch you saying that." Chuckling, the Tevinter took a curious peek inside the now empty coffer, then shot a questioning look at Mahanon. "It's definitely bigger on the outside, perhaps there's a secret compartment here?"

Nodding, the elf reached in, his deft, slender fingers seeking hidden switches under the rotten velvet of the lining.

"Ah, of course!" Snatching the torch from Dorian's hand, Solas rushed outside the crypt, urging the others to follow with an impatient gesture. "There are writings in the antechamber... partially damaged, but I think they hint that this is a key. A part of it, to be specific. The key that opens the main tomb."

Ellana and Bull followed the fade walker, leaving Dorian and Mahanon to keep working on the coffer. The moment the Qunari's massive figure went over the threshold, however, the stone door groaned and closed with a dreadful sound.

"No!" Mahanon spun on his heel and rushed towards it, but the heavy wings remained closed, no matter how hard he pushed against the thick stone.

Realizing there was nothing they could do from the inside, Dorian made himself comfortable, determined to simply wait for their companions to unlock the mechanism once again. He could sleep it off, too, if need be, his headache would certainly appreciate that. "Just give them time, I'm sure they will--"

"NO!" The archer pounded at the door again, each assault against the stone punctuated with a cry of denial. When he felt the warmth of blood trickling down his wrists from the torn skin, his words turned from angry to pleading. Eyes wild, the elf stepped back, shaking his head in frantic disbelief. "No..."

Despite near complete darkness, broken only by the single brazier near the sarcophagus, he darted from corner to corner, checking every flaw in the marble slabs covering the walls, every crack, every nook and cranny, his breathing getting heavier with every false hope to find the door's trigger crushed.

When there were no more places left to check, the elf dropped to his knees, curling around himself with a choked sob. He began swaying back and forth, his lips moving, but releasing no sound from the painfully constricted throat.

It took Dorian only a moment to realize what was going on. Careful not to crowd the distressed elf, he knelt in front of him and called a bright ball of flames to his palm, letting it drop to the floor beside them to chase away the darkness.

"Mahanon... you are safe. Ellana will have that door open in no time, you'll see. She'll have Bull break it to pieces with his head, if necessary. They just need a bit of time." He reached out, but the elf flinched at the touch. "Can you, please, look up?"

The intensely blue eyes opened, but did not glance at him directly, focusing on the flickering flames instead, greedy for the respite from darkness and from the memories seething in its depths.

The Tevinter knew the look on his friend's face... from the streets of Minrathous, from some of the slave pens where elves waited like cattle for their new owners, frightened, expecting nothing from their existence except pain and humiliation. Broken. Ignoring a tear that had rolled down his cheek, the mage reached out again, this time letting his open hand hover between them, support offered, but not forced. "Do you trust me?"

A gasp, a moment of struggle while the elf tried to make his panicked body obey. Then silence. "With my life," came a barely audible answer just as Dorian was about to give up hoping for it.

"Then take my hand and hold on to it," the necromancer went on, taken aback by the raw power of the elf's confession, but unable to show it without the risk of ruining the progress they'd made.

A terrifyingly cold, quivering hand clutched at his palm, bloodied fingers immediately digging deep into the flesh, causing pain, clawing, seeking purchase... and finding it in the steady hold when the mage did not pull away, returning the grip instead. The trembling elven body relaxed a tiny little bit.

"Good, now look into my eyes. You know those eyes. Just as you know my voice. Remember them, please. Not the fear, not the pain of that dark closed space. Remember what came after."

Mahanon released the breath he had no idea he had been holding. "Warm. Safe," he rasped.

"Exactly." Dorian encouraged him with a small smile, relieved when it made the frightened elf in front of him lean the slightest bit forward. "You are not alone this time. I am here, and I will protect you, I will not allow anyone harm you. I promise."

The ancient machinery hidden in the walls moved once again and, after a grunt of protest, the door stood open, letting in both light and fresh air.

"You better get out of there," Bull barged in, frowning at the scene in front of him, but choosing not to comment. "I'm not sure that piece of shit dwarven contraption is gonna work the third time."

Mahanon bolted. Tripping over his own feet, stumbling clumsily several times, he rushed outside the chamber, up the flight of stairs and the creaking ladder, then further and further away from the tomb, until the ruin disappeared behind a sand dune. He simply stood out there, breathing in ragged gasps as the world spun in front of his eyes and his cheeks burned red.

***

Even with the location marked on the map and no need to wander the wastes aimlessly, the trip to the Venatori base camp proved challenging. After they had only barely managed to avoid a raging sand storm, a group of truly bloodthirsty beasts no one knew the name for attacked them. Once they dispatched those, they stumbled upon a rift spouting pride demons in unprecedented quantities. It was a small wonder that by the end of the fifth day on the road, everyone was on edge as they plowed through the sand in uncomfortable silence.

"Doom and gloom, for fuck's sake," Bull growled at last, rolling his shoulders. "Hey, Dorian, remember our last night before we left Skyhold?"

Ellana and Solas exchanged exasperated looks at that and increased their tempo, half-running until there was enough distance between them and the lovers to offer everyone at least an illusion of privacy.

Dorian let out a long, drawn out sigh, and clutched his staff tighter. "Discretion still isn't your thing, I see."

"Three times! And you set the curtains on fire!" The Qunari woofed and nudged the mage. "Also, I have your silky underthings right here with me, I know you left them as a token for me, you sly dog!"

It took Mahanon a moment to recover from shock at that exchange.

"Does he mean so little to you that you enjoy humiliating him like that?" He demanded of the horned warrior with an angry hiss. "That you drag the most intimate emotions out in the open for all to feast upon? Sharing him like a slab of meat for the vultures?"

The Iron Bull waved him off. "Don't tell me how to appreciate my man, little one."

"Your man." The elf spat, grabbing Bulls wrist with both hands and tugging, forcing the Qunari to stop. "So you're a property holder now, just owning him when you should be cherishing."

Dorian's eyes never left the archer's face, but the mage remained silent.

"Look, you are out of your league here, little one." The patronizing tone of Bull's voice took a dangerous undertone. "Don't stick your pretty nose where it does not belong, all right?"

Mahanon made a step closer, putting himself directly in the Qunari's personal space. "Or you do what? Treat me like you treat him? Tell everyone in Skyhold how you found me in that dungeon, unconscious of fear, in a puddle of my own piss? That's what you'd do, spy? Use secrets for leverage?"

"ENOUGH, _lethallin_!" Ellana came running into the scene. "I'm sure Dorian is a grown up man able to take care of himself."

The necromancer offered her an enigmatic half-smile. "Not right at this moment, no. I'm feeling another crippling headache building up, I'm afraid."

Ellana glared at him and huffed, turning back to her brother, who did not give her a chance to speak again.

"Dorian could wipe us all with his magic if he chose so," he answered her through clenched teeth, unfazed by the interference, and still glaring up at the Iron Bull. "With just a flick of wrist, nothing more."

"Exactly, damnit!" Not without effort, the Inquisitor managed to drag Mahanon away from the strangely quiet Qunari. "So leave him and Bull be."

" _Tel'abelas_ ," the archer growled and moved on, leaving them all behind

"Well, I certainly feel very appreciated now," Dorian announced with a smug grin. "Goodness, and my headache is gone, too!"

"Gods, I hope some beasts attack us again, because I desperately need to kill something... right now." Ellana muttered a curse and marched forward, catching up with Solas and hooking her arm with his for comfort.

"You said it, boss," Bull murmured in a voice that betrayed no emotions whatsoever.

***

The dragon was dead. The ancient dwarven tomb stood open, offering a single rune as a reward for the weeks the team had spent half-buried in the sand. Ellana struggled to keep her discontent at bay.

"I mean, it's a very powerful thing, right?" She asked Solas as they walked back towards the main camp, the very first one they had set up in the area so many days ago.

The fade walker nodded patiently. "That it is. It should prove invaluable in the final fight."

"Good, good. And the Venatori didn't get it." She groaned. "But why am I so horribly disappointed? Why do I feel cheated?"

Solas chuckled and put a reassuring arm around her waist, pulling her in for a kiss. "Because you would prefer something more on par with the monumental task that is still ahead of you, _vhenan_."

"Yes, something the size of Bull, at least," she murmured, smiling against the other elf's lips, pleasantly surprised by the public show of affection.

"You already got me, boss," the Qunari offered, passing by them. "One Bull is enough to kick that sorry Vint darkspawn's ass, don't you worry."

Ellana laughed. "I do so like his confidence."

Solas released her from his arms and led the way ahead. "Sometimes I wonder if he's the reason why we encounter so many pride demons around the rifts."

Bull stopped abruptly and, in a cloud of sand, spun on his heel to glare at him. "Wait just one damn second..."

"Relax, I was merely teasing you." The fade walker patted the Qunari's massive arm once he had caught up with him.

"Damned trickster," the warrior grumbled, rolling his shoulders.

Solas chuckled at that. "You have no idea."

Mahanon kept his distance. Ever since the spat he had with Bull about Dorian, he would make sure to stay away, far enough to not hear anything and not see anything except the small figures moving through the sand. He didn't need anyone's pity for the feelings he had unintentionally revealed in front of the entire team. He wanted no mercy, no sympathetic looks from anyone. He was not ashamed of what he'd said and done, but he wasn't proud, either. For all he knew, his friendship with Dorian had turned into a pile of dust on the wind, and Mahanon was not ready to confront that reality, to look into the mage's eyes and try to apologize only to be rejected.

Pushing away the painful thoughts, the elf climbed a rocky outcropping that stood in his way. Long and elevated high above the dunes, it promised a good view of the area for a substantial part the way. Mahanon adjusted the straps holding the quiver at his back and went ahead.

Ellana was correct, he had no right to barge in between Bull and Dorian, to make demands, and yet... there was no doubt in his heart that what Bull had said was wrong, that whatever the unexplained setup between him and Dorian had been, the Qunari had no right to reveal such precious secrets as if they were worthless baubles to share with just anyone. He had no right to make Dorian so susceptible, so exposed... like... yes, like a slave on the market that Dorian had told him about once. Naked, powerless, forced to endure while others feast their eyes upon his most private emotions.

Losing focus, Mahanon tripped over an old, dried up root and fell off the cliff, his collapse heavy and graceless, unworthy of a Dalish hunter. Once he had managed to sit up, sputtering sand and berating himself for being so careless, he realized that he should not have survived that fall intact. Only then did the soft tingling of a barrier spell register in his mind. The archer's eyes instinctively sought the group in the distance. A small, shimmering white figure stayed behind and, perfectly still, watched until he stood and dusted himself off. Then they both moved on.

***

Another raging sandstorm had delayed them, forcing the group into a detour among the rocks, far off the track leading to the main camp.

"We could camp here," Ellana suggested, glad for the safety of the reddish canyon walls that provided a nice change after the tiring, boundless space above. "Let's just hope it's not a den for a horde of phoenixes like the oasis was. I'd like some actual rest tonight."

"I'll scout ahead, make sure it's safe," Mahanon offered immediately, refusing to look at anyone, and darted off before his sister had a chance to reply.

The Inquisitor sighed. "I hope he gets some sleep at last... he's exhausted, I've never seen him look so miserable."

"He's a tough little guy," Bull offered, gathering and arranging dried branches for a campfire. "Naive and innocent, but tough like a rock."

"He's not as naive as you might think, not after everything he's been through." A flame danced on Dorian's fingertips for a moment before the mage made it jump onto the kindling. "But yes, he is strong. Must be a Lavellan thing."

A sad smile stretched Ellana's lips as she sat by the fire and reached out to warm her hands by it. "After I was... made to leave the clan to find my own path, his life took a drastic change. Keeper made him the Master Hunter, piled up countless responsibilities on his head and expected perfection in their execution... to keep his thoughts away from me, she told him. All he knew before were our silly escapades to explore some ruins or find new paths, always together, always just play. And after... the entire clan's safety depended on him. Food supplies. Scouting, tracking. He had to grow up within a mere day. And gods know just how well he has managed that."

A pleasant aroma of herbs surrounded them when Solas tossed a handful of dried leaves and flower petals into a pot filled with water, and placed it over the fire. "The same could be said about you, _vhenan_. Do not forget that you were the one forced to leave everything you knew behind and face the unknown world all alone."

"That is never easy, is it," the Tevinter murmured, setting up his bedroll and sitting cross-legged on the blankets. "It's actually quite remarkable how each of us here, including your brother, has been made to leave our homes behind at some point in our lives."

"Heh, that's what makes us such a badass team, I say." Bull pulled out bread and smoked meat from his monstrous backpack and cut a generous serving for each of them. "Sure we may want to claw each other's eyes at time, we'll snap and yell, and insult, even - I'm looking at you, Solas - but when shit gets real, when there's a dragon to kill? Just look at us kicking its scaly ass and coming out of the worst shit victorious."

"That is something I hadn't expected joining the Inquisition," Solas admitted, gathering their tin mugs and filling them with his herbal drink. "That team spirit, the near flawless cooperation between people from such different backgrounds. Not just the five of us here, but everyone at Skyhold as well. This is why the Inquisition has come so far."

Dorian accepted the mug from the elf and took a careful sip, smiling at the refreshing taste of mint and berries. "We wouldn't go anywhere without a common goal uniting us. And without the leader to show us how to reach it."

Ellana almost choked on her drink. "Oh, don't be silly. I just happened to be around and available. Even Cassandra declared she'd rather have Hawke here than me."

"Now you're just being stupidly modest, boss. Cassandra idolizes you more than she does that horny captain from Varric's book. And even assuming that Hawke would bother to go check on the Divine when the whole shit began in the Temple - and we all know how damn much he loved the chantry - what makes you even consider the possibility that he would manage to get us that far? That he would bother at all?"

"Exactly," Dorian agreed with a solemn nod. "I've heard the stories from refugees in Skyhold. Considering the state Kirkwall was left in by its Champion, considering that you, the Inquisitor and not him, had to first help rebuild it and then send your troops to reclaim it from Starkhaven's grasp... no. We would not be here if Hawke led us. We would be somewhere, granted, but definitely not that far ahead."

"Oh, shush, all of you!" Ellana shook her head firmly. "I don't even believe in Andraste or the Maker. I don't believe there was any divine intervention in my receiving the anchor. Just an accident. Coincidence. That's all. And please, let's not go on about how brilliant a leader I am. I would be crying myself to sleep in the corner somewhere all this time if not for my advisors. And you, my friends."

Bull stood with a growl. "That's bullshit, boss, and you know it. Remember Haven. What you have accomplished there is all you need to think of if you ever feel like doubting yourself like that again."

"Today is a day of wonders," Solas tilted his head to send the other elf a warm, private smile, "because I find myself in complete agreement with a Qunari."

"I think I need a fainting couch," Bull grumbled, then looked himself over. "A damn big-ass fainting couch."

Ellana's laugh echoed from the rocky walls around them, soon joined by the others.

Mahanon smiled at the merry sound. It had been a rarity in all that time they had spent together after... after they had lost the clan. Steeling himself, the archer stepped into the circle of light around the fire.

"There were some spiders ahead," he reported, picking up his pack from where he had dropped it. "All taken care of." With that, he made his way back into the shadows.

"Mahanon!" Ellana called after him. "Please, sit with us. You need to eat something. And Solas prepared some herbal tea... we could..."

He looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes wild. "I... thank you, but I need rest. I'll be over there, so please, wake me when it's my turn to stand guard."

When his silhouette dissolved in the darkness, the Inquisitor pressed her forehead against Solas' shoulder, grateful when he planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.

"So much for a nice evening." Bull stretched and looked around the canyon walls, finding a comfortable ledge to sit on that was slightly above their little camp. "I'll take the first watch."

***

Dorian turned the page and sighed. With a sickened wince, he closed the book and put it away. He loved the story, truly did, but reading it fourth time in a row was a bit much. He should have brought more reading to help keep the thoughts occupied. If only he had known he would need distraction so much...

Standing up, the mage stifled a yawn and paced around the fire to wake his sleepy muscles. He never understood the need to keep one of them awake on guard duty at all times, while a nice set of well placed wards would do the trick just as well. If not better. Wards did not doze off on duty like Solas often had.

A soft sound coming from the darkness made Dorian turn towards it and listen more carefully. Sure enough, there it was again, a distressed gasp, a half moan, stifled, but still audible. Mahanon.

With flames on his fingertips to chase away the shadows, the mage approached the sleeping elf and crouched by his bedroll. The archer was curled up around himself under the crumpled blanket. With one hand clutching a makeshift pillow made of rolled cloak, the other clawing helplessly at the sand, he was reliving his memories once again. Soon, another broken sob escaped the pale lips, as another tear rolled from under the closed eyelids.

Carefully, the necromancer reached out, placing a gentle hand on Mahanon's head, allowing his fingers to card through the pitch black strands of hair. At first, the elf twitched, his entire body freezing momentarily, expecting pain to come. When, instead of hurt, only tender caress was offered, he relaxed ever so slightly. Encouraged, the mage's hand moved to the archer's cheek, fingertips ghosting over the tear-damp skin.

"Dorian," the elf whispered... and only then did he wake up with a startled gasp.

"You had a nightmare," the Tevinter explained in a soothing voice, his palm still cupping Mahanon's face gently.

"You brought me light again." The elf took a shuddering breath and nodded, his hand darting up to hold Dorian's wrist in place. "I keep seeing them die, over and over again. One by one, right in front of my eyes, their bodies cut and crushed, blood pooling in puddles on the ground. Their screams. Their pain. I am out of arrows, there is nothing I can do except... except... I have no right to keep on living when they... I should have died with them. I should have--"

"No," Dorian told him firmly. "If you had died, I would have never met you."

With a warm smile, he placed the ball of flames on the sand by the speechless elf's head, and made himself comfortable sitting nearby, with his back against the large rock Mahanon had chosen to hide his bedroll behind. "Sleep now, I'll take your watch."

When the morning came and the team left the canyon, the elf did not rush ahead to keep his distance. Instead, he stayed just a little behind, his eyes bright and spring in his step.

***

"I need to talk to you." Dorian paced back and forth in Bull's room at Skyhold, a whole speech ready in his head... and falling apart more and more the closer he got to delivering it.

The Qunari nodded. "I know. But, before you make a fool of yourself, let me take the lead one last time, all right?"

The mage winced and, with a single nod of approval, dropped onto the only chair available.

Bull stood by the window, his back turned to the mage. "You returned to me after our first time because you needed what I had to offer. You needed it to keep yourself steady, to focus and stay yourself. It wasn't the ideal choice for you, not exactly what you were really looking for, but we made it work, and it sure as hell was fun while it lasted."

There was a small smile on the warrior's lips when he turned to look at his lover at last. "You're a sweet guy, Dorian, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Perhaps there could have been something more here, perhaps not, I don't know, and I won't try to guess or assume, too late for that... and not enough clues to go with. What matters now is that you are ready to move on, without restraints to keep you on the safe path, without pain to keep you grounded in reality. If we kept this thing between us going on, I would be hurting you, and not in a fun way. I wouldn't do that to you. Ever."

Dorian swallowed, taking in a quick breath, looking for all those words he had prepared, finding none. "I... do not know what to say."

"I know, right?" The Qunari chuckled, his eyes warm when he looked at him. "That's why I'm doing all the hard job for you. Again."

"Thank you. For everything, Bull." The mage stood, taking a hesitant step towards the door. "You saved me from a fall that might have killed me. You gave me something to look forward to, and thrills I never thought possible. I--"

"Whoa there. If you're trying to apologize for leaving me," Bull interrupted him, a sly grin tugging at his scarred lips, "let's me make one thing clear: I'm dumping you, not the other way around. I even had a lock installed in my door, so it can stay properly closed."

Dorian managed a smile of his own. "Not so savage anymore, I see."

"Nope. Although I still intend to fart by the table, just so you know."

***


	8. Tal-Vashoth

"Fuck alliance with the Qunari, I say," Ellana downed another mug of chasind mead and promptly smashed it against the wall. "Fuck their reports, too. We don't need them."

Bull barked a laugh. "Feisty!"

"Damn right I am." She hiccupped and grabbed another mug. "To the Iron Bull and his Chargers!"

The entire tavern joined the toast, bringing a wide smile to the giant warrior's lips. "You know, boss, your enthusiasm can make anything look like a success."

"There will be no red lyrium shit in Tevinter so it _was_ a success, you silly, horny... no, wait... horned guy." The elf grinned, blinking rapidly a few times before she leaned against his massive shoulder to prevent herself from sliding off the bar stool.

"Right on both accounts, your worship," Krem cut in with a wink and clinked his mug with hers.

Ellana chortled at that. "Horns up!"

"Ah, you two know me so damn well," Bull chuckled, wrapping a supportive arm around the elf's back. "But something tells me you've had enough, boss. I'd rather not have you crawl up the stairs to your quarters again. Solas will have my hide for getting you drunk anyway."

"He totally will." She giggled and poked the tal-vashoth's rock-hard bicep with a finger. "You know you will have to tell them at some point, right? They need to know, Bull. They'll love you even more for it, I promise you that."

Krem frowned, a mug half-way to his lips. "Tell us what?"

"Yep, definitely time for you to hit the sack." The Iron Bull stood and effortlessly lifted the Inquisitor in his arms. "You keep going guys, I'll be back as soon as I make sure this light drinker is safe."

***

Three days later, a messenger found Ellana and her brother in the war room, poring over the map table that they've covered with detailed charts of various areas.

"Inquisitor, the Iron Bull requests that you meet him on the battlements... he says it's urgent."

"Wait here, _lethallin_. See if you can figure out how to get us through that bog without losing half of our troops." With that she headed for the door and ran as soon as it closed behind her.

Mahanon narrowed his eyes and followed, picking his bow on the way.

***

"You wanted to see me?" Ellana tossed a curious look at the warrior, but before he could reply, the nearby patrol guards charged at him with angry Qunari words on their lips. The elf had a spell ready to cast instantly, but Bull stopped her with a growl, spinning to face the assassins on his own.

His massive fist and an arrow flying form the tower's top had reached the closest attacker at exactly the same moment, killing him instantly. The other one retaliated at that, stepping back to toss a dagger at the unexpected foe above, right before Bull sent him tumbling over the battlements with a well aimed kick in the chest.

"My soul may be dust, yours is scattered all over the ground, though, so..."

A cry of pain pierced the air, followed by a soft sound of a body collapsing. Exchanging a look, Ellana and Bull both raced to the tower and up the ladder, only to find Mahanon writhing on the floor there, a dagger still buried deep in his side.

"Stay away, boss, I'll handle it." Bull did not allow the elf's sister to come closer, kneeling and reaching for the weapon while she watched, struggling to keep panic at bay.

"No... the bleeding," the archer wheezed. "It will get worse if you remove..."

"That's actually a good thing, the poison will kill you faster if it stays in." The tal-vashoth pulled the dagger out and tossed it over the wall into the chasm below. "Why did you have to interfere, foolish elf? I had them, they weren't any danger for me."

"I had to make sure... you were... safe... you did a brave thing... sacrificing... for your people... for Chargers... I... out of respect... and Dorian... I didn't want him to lose... the one... he... the one..."

"He hasn't told you, then." Muttering filthy curses Bull pressed hard at the wound, making it bleed profusely and ignoring a strangled cry of protest from the injured elf. "That's why Qunari don't bother with all that feelings shit, damnit."

Mahanon's eyes rolled back, his entire body going rigid. Another scream tore itself from his chest, followed by yellowish foam that began trickling from the corner of his ghostly pale lips. Bull did not waste another moment. Gathering the convulsing archer from the ground, he rushed to the nearest sheltered place that happened to be Cullen's office.

It only took one look for the commander to assess the situation and clean his desk with a wide swipe of his hand. As parchments and scrolls scattered to the floor, the horned warrior gently placed Mahanon on the wooden surface, instructing the others to bring Solas and Stitches, and gather all the healers Inquisition had at its immediate disposal.

"Just hold on, little one," Bull urged, hoping the elf had enough blood left in him to keep the weakened heart beating. "I'll get you out of this. I've done that before. Stitches will have an antidote, Solas will give you some strength, you'll be okay, you'll see. Just hold on or Dorian will cry his pretty eyes out, and we don't want that. We don't, you hear me?"

It seemed like hours had passed before Stitches barged in, three vials of thick black liquid in hand. Not wasting any time to catch a breath, he handed one to Bull and, without delay, proceeded to try and pour the contents of the other two into the elf's mouth.

"Hand me that knife he has strapped to his boot, chief, I need to pry his teeth open before I can make him drink it."

When Solas rushed into the room, they had him hold Mahanon's head in place, the fade-walker's palms glowing with restorative magic while others finally managed to make the younger Lavellan swallow the antidote.

The last vial was used to clean the cut flesh from the remnants of the poison that might have lingered there and, at long last, the circle mages who had arrived in the meantime, could work on closing the deep wound properly.

"Will he be all right?" Ellana asked cautiously, realizing she was afraid to hear the answer.

"Told you he's a tough one, boss," Bull patted her back and allowed himself a small sigh. "Stupid and reckless sometimes, sure, but... I say he'll live."

Solas nodded his agreement. "We have all done everything we could, it will be enough. He will need a considerable amount of time to completely purge the poison from his body, but thanks to the antidote, the danger is past him."

"Thank you gods and ancestors..." Crouching right where she stood to avoid collapsing, the Inquisitor hugged herself tightly as relieved sobs wracked her entire body.

"Is it safe to move him now?" Cullen asked from the corner he had retreated to to keep out of the healers' way. "I don't suppose my rickety desk is comfortable enough for one in his condition. And I'm going to need my office back."

"The wound is now closed completely, it is safe to move him," a mage healer offered, bowing and following the others to the exit.

Bull tossed a questioning look at Ellana. "The infirmary or your place, boss?"

"There's more room in my quarters, and I want to take care of him personally," she replied, wiping her eyes and standing, ready to take another responsibility on her shoulders. "Bigger bed, too."

***

Voices. Coming and going. Some hushed, some worried, never clear enough to let him understand or recognize them. A blissful touch of a damp cloth on his forehead whenever his body burned with fever. A gentle caress of fingers brushing stray hair off his face and putting a cup of refreshingly cold water to his parched lips. The chill of the night breeze and warmth of the sun on his skin...

As the days passed, the residue from the poison held Mahanon's mind captive half-way between a dream and waking world. Blissfully free of the usual nightmares, it brought strength to his body, but it also tempted, promising peace and quiet for as long as his eyes remained closed, for as long as he obeyed it.

"You know, you could come back to us at last, I've ran out of ridiculous stories to regale you with while you sleep."

Dorian?

Mahanon clutched at the sheet, letting out a small groan as he clawed his way back to consciousness. His monumental effort was justly rewarded when, against all reason, the necromancer's concerned face was indeed the first thing he saw once his eyelids had finally agreed to lift.

"Dorian."

The mage offered him a tender smile and, cupping his head in his both hands, pressed a careful kiss on the elf's lips.

"I thought I had lost you forever," he whispered in a strained voice, leaning closer to punctuate his words with more kisses. "Don't ever do anything that foolish again, you hear me? Ever!"

Mahanon was not ashamed of the small whimper that had escaped him. Nor was he embarrassed by how needy it had to seem when he lifted his head from the pillow to follow the Tevinter's lips every time the mage pulled away.

Then, in a sudden flash of pain in his side, the reality hit him. "Bull..."

"Ah, yes." Dorian cleared his throat. With just his fingertips, the man traced the edge of the pointed ear, eagerly returning for another caress when it had elicited a quiet moan from the elf. "I haven't told you , because... well... I kept hoping it would crop up naturally in a conversation, but you kept avoiding the subject, so... well, suffice to say, Bull and I have parted ways. Quite a while ago, actually."

"I'm... sorry."

The mage laughed. "Oh, you are glorious! Here I am, telling you that the most handsome man this side of the veil is fully eligible for flirting once again, and what do you do? You say you're sorry."

"Just flirting?" Mahanon reached out to touch the suddenly serious face in front of him, but his muscles proved to be too weak, and the trembling hand dropped limply back onto the covers.

Tilting his head, Dorian watched him for a while, his eyes narrowed slightly. "What is it that you want from me, exactly? A relationship?"

"Why else would I be pining for you for months and making a complete fool of myself in front of everyone?" The elf closed his eyes, hoping to hide the hurt that had flashed across his features at the mage's question. Was there a hint of a mocking tone he had heard in his voice? Or was it just... disbelief?

"I don't want a quick tryst and an even quicker goodbye, Dorian. I want to wake up by your side every morning. I want to fall asleep feeling your warmth around me. I want our talks about the books, the world, about everything... to never end. I want you, not just the sex. As amazing as it no doubt would be with you." His voice broke, forcing him to stop and take a full breath, exhausted by the effort that speaking so many words had required. "But... if flirting is all you are ready to offer... I... I'll take that, too... I'll take anything you are willing to give me."

The Tevinter turned away, his shoulders sagging as he shifted slightly to the edge of the bed. "Where I come from, it doesn't happen often... if at all. Anything between two men is physical, it doesn't go beyond that. It's not that you don't care, you just... don't hope for more, because there can't be more. And now you speak of it as if it was a simple thing, easily imagined... but I have no examples with which to compare."

"We could be that example, you and I. But if you want us to... remain just friends, call it all off... I..."

"No." Dorian took the elf's hand and lifted it to his cheek, leaning into the touch with a sigh. "It's just that you are asking me to turn into a unicorn, and I don't even know what one looks like."

Mahanon smiled, his thumb rubbing the mage's clean-shaven skin. "I don't know that, either, but I don't want you to turn into anything. I don't want you to change. I love you just the way you are and, for me, you already are a unicorn. The most exquisite one ever."

"As if I could deny you anything when you speak such delightful nonsense. You certainly do have your way with words, you know that?" Dorian scooted closer and gathered the elf into his arms to seal his slightly trembling lips with a long, passionate kiss.

***


	9. Slave of the Past

Ellana kept cussing all the way back from the Temple of Mythal. Walking fast enough to keep up with Bull and leave others behind, she would stomp her feet, hands flailing, and lips grinning impishly whenever she accidentally spouted a filthy curse in some ancient language she hadn't known before drinking from the Well.

"Just who does she think she is? To teach me... to teach Solas... SOLAS! About old elven lore? Old elven magic? The nerve!" She punched Bull's arm, making the horned giant chuckle. "I don't give a blighted rat's ass about all her studies. If, for just one moment, she thought I would let her take over all that knowledge of MY people for herself..."

"I am right here behind you," Morrigan spat at last.

"Right where you should be, _shem_ , and I am well aware of that," was Ellana's only answer. What she would give for Solas' presence by her side right now... but the elf kept his distance, deep in his thoughts, and no doubt disappointed that she had ignored his advice.

As soon as they settled back in Skyhold and got their well deserved rest after the hard battle, the Inquisitor rushed to the rotunda, determined to talk the situation over with the fade walker. To have him admit that she did the right thing. Instead, she found herself pinned by his angry stare the moment he spun on his heel to face her.

"Why did you do it?" He demanded of her in a voice raised to a livid shout. "I warned you not to!"

Ellana flinched and took a small step back, her eyes wide. "Solas..."

"You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elven god!" He kept scolding, relentless and oblivious to her fear of him. "You are a Mythal's creature now! Whatever you do from this moment on, will be for her!"

Curling around herself to stop her body from trembling, the Inquisitor dropped her gaze to the floor. "Better be Mythal's herald than Andraste's," she whispered, but he did not seem to notice.

"You have given up a part of yourself!"

"Solas!" Two faces appeared over the railing. Dorian's glare pierced the angry elf below in an unspoken warning, Mahanon threatened openly with a low growl. "Have a care."

The mage shot them a defiant stare, but when he looked back at Ellana, her emotional state had finally registered in his mind. "Forgive me, _vhenan_ ," he pleaded, taking her hand and pressing it flat against his chest, right over the heart. "I got carried away in my fear... for your safety... I never meant to frighten you."

With a soft whimper, Ellana closed the distance between them, clinging to him for dear life. "I did it for our people. So I can use this knowledge to restore what was, make it better. So you can be proud of me."

Solas found himself smiling at that. "I already am proud of you. You have impressed me as no other being has before, vhenan. Come, walk with me."

He led her to a place she had never seen before, a secluded pool among the trees, guarded by two giant statues of halla, carved in snow-white stone.

"It's... beautiful," Ellana whispered, turning to face him with a warm smile on her lips.

He pulled her closer, caressing her cheek with his fingertips. "I was trying to determine how to show you what you mean to me..."

"I'm listening," she waggled her eyebrows as pleasant heat pooled in her belly. "And I can offer a few suggestions."

"I shall bear that in mind." His trademark chuckle made her knees weak, the intensity of his gaze quickening her breath with ease. "For now, the best gift I can offer is... the truth."

Ellana tilted her head. That was unexpected. He seemed nervous. Worried. Uncertain. This wasn't the Solas she knew so well.

"You are unique," he went on, holding her captive with his voice alone. "In all of Thedas I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined."

Either he was going to say something monumentally profound, or... Ellana refused to consider any possibility, offering the other elf a shy smile instead. "As you are to me."

"Then what I must tell you... the truth..." Solas hesitated, stumbling slightly over the words and pausing for a longer while before he spoke again. "Your face, the _vallaslin_. I have discovered what those marks mean."

 _Bull shit!_ Ellana thought. That was not what he had intended to say, she could see it in his eyes, how they had lost the spark of determination and turned sad instead.

"They honor the elven gods," she said patiently as if explaining the obvious to a child. "Mine are for Ghilan'nain, the Halla-mother... but only because Keeper wouldn't let me put the Fen'Harel's markings on, no matter how much I fought her on that."

"No," he interrupted her, urgent, impatient. Annoyed? "They are slave markings. Or at least they were in the ancient Arlathan. A noble would mark his slaves with them to honor the gods he worshipped."

Ellana swayed, glad for his arms that had supported her. "So this is what? Just one more thing the stupid Dalish got wrong? That's what you're telling me to show your feelings? Or are you just gloating now?"

"I'm sorry." He winced, her words hitting the mark. "You deserve to know the truth."

Pushing him away, she began pacing back and forth, her feet disturbing small pebbles by the pond with unpleasant crunch. "We try to preserve our culture and this shit is what we keep? Relics of a time when we were no better than Tevinter? I wish you just hit me instead of telling me this, Solas. I really do."

"Don't say that. For all they got wrong, the Dalish did one thing right. They made you."

She laughed out loud at that. Cold and bitter, tears welling in her eyes. "Some consolation is that! A herald of Andraste! Bound to Mythal! Slave to some damn twisted memory... how are you not laughing at me? How are you keeping a straight face whenever you look at me, knowing all that you know? How?"

"I'm so sorry for causing you pain." The fade walker stepped closer, his eyes tender, compassionate. Ellana hated that look in them. "It was selfish of me. I look at you and I see what you truly are, not what those cruel marks represent... If you like, I know a spell... I can remove the _vallaslin_."

Grabbing his tunic, she shook him fiercely. "Then do it! Take the cursed thing away, so you can look at me without disgust... without that pity written all over your face... do it!"

His palms glowed cobalt blue when he hovered them over her face, bringing slight tingling to the skin, but no pain. Then he smiled, the same warm and tender smile she loved so much.

" _Ar asa mala revas._ You are free. And so beautiful."

When he kissed her, the world ceased to exist. The time stopped, and all that mattered were his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, his hand on her behind, pulling her closer, impatient, insistent, hungry... Everything was about him, nothing else mattered, every hurt and insult forgiven and forgotten. Ellana moaned softly. This was the moment, at long last, when she would give her whole self to him, when he would take her and make her his, when--

"And I am sorry. I distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again."

 _What?_ She swayed when he stepped away, a flash of pain there and gone from his face.

"Solas..."

"Please, _vhenan_."

"Don't you _vhenan_ me now!" She shouted, exhausted and fed up with his game of constant give and take. All she wanted was to have him in her life, the safe haven she got to depend on in all the time they had been together. The warm shelter that, apparently, had decided to slam its door right in front of her during the worst storm ever. "Solas, don't you dare leave me, not now! I love you, I need you! I can't do this without you, can't you see this?"

"You have a rare and marvelous spirit, in another world--"

"Oh, shut it with the spirits for once! This is the real world, real pain, real hurt you are causing!" She punched his chest, her vision blurred with tears. "At least tell me you don't care!"

He raised his hands, as if to prevent himself from embracing her. "I can't do that."

"Then lie, you bastard!" Another punch as her voice broke into a sob. "Tell me I was some casual dalliance, so I can call you a coldhearted son of a bitch and move on!"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You don't get to be sorry, Solas! The only sorry, pathetic, ridiculous creature in this is me. Me!" Ellana collapsed to the ground, burying her face in her trembling hands. "Now go away, leave me alone, let me keep at least a tiny bit of dignity. Please."

He did not look back.

***

Mahanon made himself more comfortable in Dorian's lap, leaning against the man with a soft purr. The mage chuckled at that, shifting slightly in his favorite library armchair, to let the elf's long legs stretch over the armrest. "Thank goodness you weigh less than my staff, or I would be breathless by now."

The archer raised an amused eyebrow at that. "You mean I don't make you breathless anymore?"

"Ah, I've stepped right into this one, haven't I, _amatus_?"

They kissed slowly, their bodies a perfect fit against each other. "That you did, _vhenan_."

A loud crash below interrupted them. Light on his feet, Mahanon padded to the railing, his eyes going wide when he saw Solas by the desk, face buried in his hands, shoulders hunched, and remnants of a smashed teacup right next to him on the floor.

When the archer called the mage over with an urgent wave of a hand, Dorian approached as well, and they exchanged puzzled looks, unsure what to make of the situation.

"Where's Ellana?" Mahanon demanded unceremoniously.

There was no answer. Instead, Solas stood and left the rotunda, slamming the door behind him.

" _Kaffas_. We need to find her."

Leliana's spies proved invaluable once again, providing the exact location where the two elves had stayed at. They were followed and then respectfully given privacy once any potential danger to the Inquisitor had been ruled out. Surprisingly, they were not aware of Solas' return to Skyhold. It seemed the elf had managed to somehow get past some of Inquisition's best spies, a possibility Leliana found quite disturbing.

Letting the spymaster worry about the fade walker's stealth skills, Mahanon and Dorian left the keep immediately, taking their weapons with them.

"The veil is thin here," the Tevinter whispered as they approached the small grove surrounded by tall rock formations. "Dangerously thin, even, I'd say."

Moments later, the unmistakable sound of a fade rift had reached them. They ran.

Ellana was laying curled around herself in the tall grass, shivering in the late night's cold. She was unconscious and completely oblivious to a despair demon circling right above her head, preparing to strike.

Mahanon's arrow had distracted the fade creature at the very last moment, the necromancer's spells reducing it to nothingness soon after. The nearby rift shifted with a flash of toxic green light, preparing to send forth more demons. There was no time to waste.

"We can't close it without her, best run while we can." The necromancer picked Ellana up and rushed towards the narrow passage they had entered through. Once they were far enough from the rift to not risk attracting its demons, the mage gently placed the unconscious elf on the grassy ground. "She doesn't seem injured, but if he's hurt her in any way..."

The archer reached out to brush loose strands of hair off his sister's face. He gasped. "Do you see what I see?"

"Her tattoos!" Dorian could hardly believe his eyes. "Gone! But how is that even possible?"

"Some _ancient fade magic_ , no doubt," Mahanon said, mocking Solas' voice. "But why would she let him do that to her is beyond me. And why won't she wake? You think it's his doing?"

The mage shook his head. "Solas may be many things, but he would not leave her here unconscious and defenseless. I have an ugly suspicion that our dear Inquisitor is the one who has opened that rift... willingly or not. Considering that it had spouted a despair demon... I'd risk a statement that she and Solas are no longer together. The worst timing possible, all things considered."

"I'll kill the son of a bitch. I'll kill him."

"Get in line, _amatus_." Dorian unbuckled his outer robe and carefully wrapped the unresponsive elf in the silks, hoping it would be enough to stop her violent trembling.

The warmth made Ellana stir with a small moan. "What..." Blinking, she turned her puffy, bloodshot eyes to the mage. "Dorian?"

"The one and only," the Tevinter replied with a soothing smile, but before he could say anything more, she threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck as sobs wracked her body.

"He left me... and I don't know why... I don't understand... you don't tell a girl that she's beautiful and... and... amazing, only to dump her moments later... you don't..."

Dorian's heart nearly broke at her misery, but there weren't any words that could possibly take the pain away. He pulled her even closer and let her cry, his arms strong and protective around her fragile body.

"Did he remove your _vallaslin_?" Mahanon demanded after a while, his voice a little more harsh than he had intended for it to be.

" _Lethallin_? You're here too?" Surprised, the elf mage hiccuped quietly and pulled away from the necromancer to face her brother. "I... he said that they--" Flinching a little under his scrutinizing gaze, Ellana shook her head. No, she could not tell him the truth, she could not crush his faith in tradition like Solas had crushed hers. "Doesn't matter what he said... he wanted me to be pretty, and I let him make me pretty. I was a fool."

"You were pretty. Now you're--"

"We'd better get back to Skyhold." Dorian cut in before the archer had a chance to say something regrettable. "Or try closing that rift, if you're up to it, _amica_." He stood, pulling Ellana up with him and helping her keep balance.

For a moment she seemed confused while her mind sought the relevant memory. Once the realization hit her, the Inquisitor covered her mouth with a shaky palm. "Ancestors! The rift! I felt so sad, and wretched, and--" Her voice broke as more tears fell. "And then it just... happened, I saw a green flash and a demon flying out right at me and... I think I collapsed then... but it wasn't something I did on purpose, I swear!"

Letting out a quiet growl, Mahanon pulled her into a rough embrace. "I hate seeing you like that, Ella. I hate what that bastard's done with my strong big sister. I hate it."

"I quite hate that too, _lethallin_... but... let's close that rift." With a weak pat on his back, the Inquisitor took a hesitant step towards the grove. "I think I can do it with you two by my side," she whispered, wrapping Dorian's robe tighter around herself.

***

In the following days, Ellana had gradually learned how to keep the countless voices in her head at bay. With grudgingly offered, and even less gladly accepted, help from Morrigan, she had begun studying the languages they spoke in and deciphering some of the information they were willing to pass on. Grateful for the possibility to keep her thoughts constantly busy during the day, the Inquisitor managed to hold the sadness at bay by devoting herself to the lessons.

Evenings, however, proved more challenging to survive without succumbing to the painful sadness that kept lurking in her heart. At least until she wandered into the tavern one night, and realized that bad ale could, in fact, be the cure for ailments of the soul... even if only partially, because Bull would always make sure to send her to bed before she had too much, only allowing her to get tipsy enough to be able to sleep in peace.

On the day when she had successfully tamed the dragon, Ellana almost believed her life still had a good side to it left. The feeling of having such power over the creature soared in her, even though she was fully aware it wasn't her doing but Mythal's will that had bound the beast.

The moment was fleeting, though, and back in Skyhold, she returned to the constant struggle to reason with herself. She would recall the painful conversation with Solas over and over again, analyzing every word spoken with near masochistic scrutiny. It always ended up with the crushing conclusion that he had known from the very start their relationship was not going to last.

After another unproductive meeting with her advisors, and several reports of unsuccessful attempts to locate Corypheus' hideout, Ellana was so deep in thoughts that, out of habit, she wandered straight into the rotunda. Standing face to face with the fade walker for the first time in nearly two weeks, she had to bite her lip to prevent herself form crying at the sight of his perfectly schooled features and eyes that showed no feelings. At all.

"Inquisitor, how may I help you prepare for our final battle?"

Ellana swayed and had to support herself against the scaffolding to avoid collapsing as the world spun. So that was what he had reduced her to. Inquisitor, battle, cold professionalism.

"I'd like to discuss what happened... before, Solas," she managed to say, hating herself for how weak and pleading her words sounded.

"I'm afraid that wouldn't be appropriate at this time," the elf told her in a toneless, perfectly even voice. "We must focus on what truly matters."

The words hurt like a punch in the face, delivered with calculated accuracy of a ruthless fighter. "Don't you think my sanity and well being matter in all this much more than you give them credit for? And what you have done has crushed them both, in case you haven't bothered to notice."

Solas refused to meet her gaze, his eyes stubbornly fixed on some point in the distance, right above her head. "Harden your heart to a cutting edge and put that pain to good use against Corypheus."

Deep breath, then another one, until her lungs refused to take anymore air in, until she could stop trembling. It was not the moment to get angry. She needed answers... one answer, to be specific. "It would help me if you could at least explain why."

Brushing past her, Solas approached his desk, picking a parchment and examining it for a moment before he spoke again. "The answers would only lead to more questions, an emotional entanglement that would benefit neither of us."

"Well, forgive me for inconveniencing you with my feelings!" She hissed, only barely able to maintain control. "How dare I allow myself to get attached and expect the same in return!"

"The blame is mine, not yours." He marked something on the parchment and reached for another one, ignoring her raised voice and clenched fists. "It was irresponsible and selfish of me, let that be enough."

"Aha. It's not you, it's me. I've heard that bullshit before. It means that suddenly you're the noble male taking all the blame on you, while I succumb to female hysterics and make a fool of myself." Ellana snorted, digging fingernails deep into the insides of her palms. When the pain had successfully chased away the anger, she could go on. "I won't let you have that, Solas, because I am well aware of the fact that you kept telling me our relationship was a bad idea. I just... wanted to not believe you. I chose not to believe you, and I chose to fight for it, to make it work, to prove myself worthy to you. Of course, I failed at that. Miserably. So I am to blame as well." She padded over and snatched the parchment from his fingers, letting it drop to the desk. "Will you at least talk to me when we are finished with Corypheus?"

"If we are both still alive afterwards, then I promise you, everything will be made clear."

It did not mean they would be together again. It was not the promise she had foolishly hoped for, but it did offer a glimmer of hope. Faint and flickering, but it was there. Something to look forward to again. Nodding, Ellana headed for the door. "Then I'd better make sure that we both do survive."

The moment the door had closed behind her, Solas crushed the parchment in his hand and threw the crumpled ball at the nearest wall. It bounced off and rolled across the floor, ending up flattened by the elegant, metal-reinforced Tevinter boot.

Dorian approached the elf, stopping right in front of him and staring him down with an incensed glare.

"It would be wise of you to stay out of this," Solas warned, meeting his eyes unflinchingly.

The necromancer snorted at that and promptly slammed his fist against the elf's jaw.

"It would be wise of you to not hurt my friends," he said coolly when the fade walker collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap. Ignoring the elf's pained groan, the man spun on his heel and left the rotunda, quietly closing the door behind him.

***


	10. Epilogue

The battle was over. Corypheus was down on his knees before her, beaten and broken. His horrifying face contorted into even more of a monstrosity by something she would have to call despair if she bothered to look more carefully. He was watching her, on the verge of breakdown, like a petulant child whose most precious toy had been taken away... because Ellana held the orb in her hand.

The elven artifact Solas had hoped to retrieve so much was safe. The one thing she had wanted the most from that fight. For him.

It was heavy, still glowing with the power she had unleashed from it to close the breach once and for all. Unsure how to control the relic, the Inquisitor involuntarily allowed it to keep channeling the remaining energy through the mark on her hand. It kept surging through her body in excruciating waves, searing her nerves, causing pain as the power was given no outlet. Choking back an agonized moan, she placed the precious object on the ground at her feet, making sure it was resting safely in a crack that would protect it from rolling away. Once the pain in her marked hand had subsided, she rushed for the ancient magister and used whatever strength, anger and fade power she had left in her to send him where he belonged.

To the furthest, darkest recesses of the Fade.

There was no moment of triumph, however, no chance to take a breath and release it slowly to feel the burden lifting off her shoulders. Debris began dropping from the sky, pieces the size of boulders threatening to end her life right then and there. Ellana threw herself forward, curling around the orb, ready to protect it with her own body, if need be.

And then, at long last, it was over. Deafening silence fell as the land lifted with Corypheus' power had settled back on the ground from which it had been torn. The Inquisitor exhaled, choking on the dust, and sat up...

"No! By ancestors, no!" A pained cry tore itself from her lips at the sight of the orb, charred and broken in her protective arms. "Not this... please..."

The sound of bare feet on the stone made her curl around the ruined artifact. Solas crouched in front of her, reaching out for one of the blackened, lifeless pieces. He held it in a trembling hand for a moment, profound sadness radiating from him in palpable waves when he looked at her.

"I'm sorry," Ellana whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from his grief-stricken face. "I... did everything I could to... protect it... and I still broke it... I... I am so sorry..."

"It is not _your_ fault. It was not supposed to happen this way." His gentle hand on her tear-damp cheek was all the reward she needed after the impossible battle. Ellana leaned into the touch she had missed so much and, closing her eyes, allowed herself a soft sigh. But the warmth and comfort were gone all too soon, as Solas picked the remnants of the orb from her hands and reverently placed them back on the ground. With a sigh of his own, he helped her up and pressed a small kiss on her forehead. "No matter what comes, I want you to know that what we had was real."

She knew better than to follow when he had stepped away from her. Watching him leave and disappear in the shadows, she realized there would be no answers given. No promises kept. There would be no _them_ anymore, ever again. The grand victory over the evil that had threatened the entire world was hers... and it tasted like ashes.

Deep inside the Inquisitor's core, a despair demon stirred from its slumber. With her protector gone, its time had finally come.

***

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone who stayed with me till the end of this story. I can only hope you enjoyed my personal headcanon of the game's events. Writing it was one hell of a crazy ride, with sleepless nights and completely neglected social life, but... I dare say it was worth it. 
> 
> If you had a good time reading, please consider leaving a comment or a kudos, either will be greatly appreciated.


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